Body Armour
by Jaywalker
Summary: Still reeling from the loss of Doyle, Cordelia distances herself from Angel and finds herself intrigued by a stranger...
1. Default Chapter

"It's not here

_Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt own everything. _

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_First of all, many thanks to those who reviewed my previous fics so kindly. It is great to get feedback of any kind, except of course the evil flame variety. This fanfic, like the others focuses on the early relationship between Cordy and Angel. This is the first chapter of most likely four, but its still a work in progress so who knows… :)_

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_As always it's a platonic friendship between C/A. Its practically canon, except that its set before Expecting and Wesley already works for Angel Investigations. Serena and Emily were featured in the episode Expecting and Jarod is my own character.Let me know what you think, its hardly ground breaking fiction and is probably irritatingly slow paced, but hell writing the stuff makes my nights at work pass quickly! Review box is at the end, for some reason there's always a big space between my fic and the review box.. any tips on formatting would be welcomed… On to the fic…._

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**Body Armour.**

"It's not here."

Offering a silent prayer to the gods of patience and serenity, Cordelia released a long breath and lifting her eyes from the blinking computer screen, she levelled a hazel gaze at the befuddled looking vampire in the adjoining room. 

"Yes it is," She craned her neck backward and regarded him calmly, "I told you to check the second drawer down on the left. You haven't checked it."

His dark eyes glinted with enlightenment.

"On the left," Angel echoed, clicking his fingers as he twisted around to his desk. Sliding the darkened wood drawer outward, Angel rummaged through the medley of weapons, stakes and scrolls contained within, his hand finally tugging the Text of Aberyion from beneath some withered manuscripts. 

"Found it," he declared cheerfully, waving the eleventh century journal at his young associate.

"Oh good" Cordelia murmured disinterestedly, her eyes shifting back to the computer screen. "Now, just sit and read your old book while I try to figure out how to print this invoice."Her face creased with concentration as she tapped the keyboard with tentative skill, the effort provoking an uncooperative beep from the obstinate computer. Slamming a hand against the side of the monitor, Cordelia inclined forward with a dark frown.

"Print, goddamn you."

"Need some help?"

"No," came the curt response from the reception area of Angel Investigations, "I've seen you struggle with a calculator.

Angels head jerked up, the movement quickened with indignation. He was quietly proud of his increasingly proficient technological abilities, as well Cordelia knew. Mastering the modern evils of computers and fax machines was no different to conquering the telephone or wireless and he had managed _that with little difficulty. Angel would have informed his errant young assistant of as much, where it not for the small wax bound book tucked in his hand. His fingers curled around the spined binding, his thumb flipping the pages. Deciding that the passages within would prove more rewarding than a verbal battle with Cordelia, the vampire swallowed a retort with grim effort and instead clamped a hand on top of his leathered chair._

Sitting down, he languished back comfortably, his long legs extending beneath the mahogany desk till his feet tipped against the newly polished wood. The vampire trailed a hand across the smooth waxed cover of the newly retrieved text, enjoying the sensation of texture rippling beneath his touch. A familiar anticipation gripped him, fuelled by an expectation of the countless wonders lurking beneath the ornately decorated binding. Reading a new book was for Angel, a very old pleasure, and one that he enjoyed with ritualistic reverence. Slimming the cover upward and overleaf, he hunched forward and read the text with vigorous concentration, his understanding of the long dead language rusty but adequate. The accompanying illustrations caught his attention for a time but it was the words written by a long dead prophet that captured him and completely absorbed, Angel lost his thoughts in the ancient prophecies. 

***********************

"Good computer. Good clever computer." Cordelia's congratulatory exclamation disturbed the brief silence, a few moments later. Chin cupped in palm, Angel lifted his head from the aged script and watched his assistant hop up gleefully to pad toward the dusty and rather temperamental printer perched on Doyle's old desk.

_Must replace that printer, the vampire mused absentmindedly, __every-time she tries to print something off, it causes … _

His thought hung, suspended. Something about Cordelia had caught his attention and suddenly alert, Angel bestowed it upon her, undivided, his eyes clinging to her every movement. Her slim body curved forward as she leaned to inspect the invoice chugging shakily from the machine. 

Something…

A taut rigidity stiffened Cordelia's long back, her slight frame strained with sudden tension and recognising the signs of an imminent vision Angel sprang to his feet, the sudden motion sending the chair beneath him flying backwards. The vampire pushed it aside with a grunt of impatience, his eyes trained on the almost imperceptible sway of her body as he moved toward her with an unnatural speed, fervency ground in every step. 

He had to reach her.

Cordelia jerked in the first throes of her vision, her head snapping back, the first plaintive cry escaping her thinned lips. Angel circled her swiftly from behind, looping a firm arm around her waist, his free arm pinning her outstretched hands downward. She lunged away from him with a violent desperation, instinctively fighting for freedom. Angel coaxed her back, a gentle but insistent tug drawing her closer, his grasp only tightening as he felt her weaken beneath the almost unendurable strain of the vision. He spun around, she leaning against him. The vampire flung a quick gaze the length of the office and inwardly berating himself for leaving the Manthorian Demon Lore Collection scattered upon the nearby sofa, Angel finally settled on the windowsill.

"All right Cordelia, it's all right," Angel promised soothingly as he eased her shivering frame against the ledge. 

Cordelia's face contorted in pain, some fresh agony rocking her head forward so that it tilted against his chest. Angel inched closer and placed a cold hand upon her shuddering back, a vague hope of sheltering his friend from the imagery battering her mind lurking in the recesses of his own. Dipping his head downward, he strained to hear the foreign utterances she whispered to whatever darkness invaded her mind, ardent promises of acquiescence begging for release from this torment. Cordelia's insensible mutterings were caught by a sudden wincing sob, some new sight evidently shredding the last vestiges of sanity. Subduing a familiar rising helplessness, Angel contented him-self with raging against the PTB. 

_Send me my own damn messages. Can't you see how hard this is for her? _

_ _

She clutched him tightly, calming slowly as her wrenched breathing grew even, whispers familiar. Gathering herself with painful effort, Cordelia pulled back and looked up at him, her misery bound eyes filling with tears.

"You have to go."

_ _

She tipped backward against the window, it cool from the chilled night air, and hugged herself wearily. "You have to go," she repeated, her eyes dulling with resignation. 

Angel nodded slowly, giving her a little time to adjust, regretting as always, that the inevitable interrogation he inflicted upon her in the aftermath of a vision couldn't be helped nor avoided, and allowing her a few half breaths, he began. 

"Where?" he asked softly, deliberately keeping urgency from his voice. 

With a nod of practised assent, Cordelia slid to her feet and slipped past him, a fragile grace in her step. Angel was beside her in an instant, drawing back as with an unsteady wave of her hand the teenager shunned his support. Instead she moved hesitantly but independently toward her desk, the anxious vampire hovering behind. One hand clutching the desk-edge, Cordelia reached for a pen and with trembling fingers, she scribbled the address on a memo, sinking into her cushioned chair as with a swift stroke, she underlined it. The girl held the small scrap of paper mid air.

"That's where you need to go. There's a demon waiting for a girl that owes him something. It looked like she had completed half a calling ritual and he needs the rest done."

"Got it," Angel tugged the small scrap of paper from her light grasp, studying the address as he stretched down to open her drawer. He plucked a small bottle of aspirin from her open vanity case, nodding at the vial as he popped it in front of her. "Take two, if you need to. No more than that though, it can't be healthy taking painkillers too often." 

He shoved the slip of paper into his pocket and tugged his black duster from the coat hook. Shouldering it on, Angel cast an uneasy glance at the young girl, "I can call Wes if you like, he can come stay with you till I get back."

Cordelia shook her head with careful movement, her small hand fluttering to her temple. "Believe it or not, Wes has a hot date tonight and I doubt he would appreciate my headache interrupting. Besides, I'm really not up to humouring his bedside manner tonight." 

Angel exhaled as he glanced reluctantly toward the open doorway."I have to go," his voice was filled with quiet apology. 

"You do" Cordelia affirmed with firm conviction. Opening one painful eye, she managed a half smile, "Angel, don't just hover there wasting a good vision, go, shoo, do the whole demon kill thing"

Angel nodded shortly, a fire for battle already surging through his dead veins, "All right, just go downstairs, get some rest and I'll grab something for us to eat on the way back." 

Cordelia nodded wearily as she massaged her temple, the circular motion doing little to ease the relentless throbbing behind her eyes. "Just be careful"

He swung the door back with a quick smile of reassurance. "Always am."

*********************

_ _

_She could smell him, hear the heavy rasping of his breath as he neared his prey. She could feel his dark intention, his promise of death, insidious evil embraced with every fibre of his demon being._

Cordelia awoke with a start, the sudden movement immediately wobbling the precariously stacked manuscripts upon which her head rested. She lifted her head gingerly, the thoughts of toppling the painstakingly alphabetised pile too awful too bear. Her hands guided the journals into secure vertical uprightness and satisfied they would hold steady, Cordelia straightened, wincing as her muscles screamed with discomfort. She hauled her feet up and curled back into her chair, head leaning against the cushioned side. Her eyes drifted toward the window and the glittering city beyond, dark remnants of her earlier vision haunting her troubled mind.

A sickening dread settled in the pit of her stomach as with every vivid sense, she remembered the demon. She could smell him, see him, hear him. She had sent Angel out to fight him. The knot tightened in her stomach, ravelling itself into a cold fear. 

"God Doyle," she whispered in the silent night air, "You never told me it was so damn hard."

His name spoken in the cold night inspired a familiar loneliness. A grief borne smile twisted her lips as memories of her friend played through her mind, a montage of stolen days, weeks, barely months, mockingly promising life without him. As a solitary tear escaped and strayed down her cheek, and closing her eyes, Cordelia remembered.

_ _

_I can hear him laughing. I can hear his voice. As though he's just in the other room._

_He's not. You're alone. You're all alone._

_ _

She brushed the rogue tear away with a slow sweep of her hand. "No more crying," the girl resolved softly, "No more crying." A smothering grief threatened, her words hopelessly meaningless beneath its weight.

_I can hear him laughing._

Cordelia swallowed and scrunched her eyes tightly shut. Fighting an aching grief, she sought comfort in isolation. She clung to it, embracing the control it bequeathed upon her, allowing it to envelop her, its strange emptiness calming. Cordelia pulled her eyes open and rose to her feet, each limb uncurling with slow elegance. Standing perfectly still, in a surreal calm, she swept a long gaze around the dimly lit office, her eyes finally resting on Doyle's old desk.

_You're all alone._

Cordelia shook herself as though to dispel the whispering voice from her ear. "No more crying." 

Eyes dry, heart cold, she spun shortly on her heel, tugging her bag from under her desk. Cordelia dipped her head beneath the strap, the velvet clothed bag crossing her chest. She paused, her eyes still drawn toward the empty desk opposite. 

"Goddamn you," she said finally, and her gaze fixed firmly upon the door, Cordelia walked toward it, fighting the urge to run.

A deep pounding roused her from sleep. A loud deep thumping pounding that was accompanied by an equally loud voice. The teenager groggily lifted her head from the uncomfortably hard sofa arm and pulled herself into a sitting position with a soft groan. Drowsily running her hands over her sleep-smoothed face, Cordelia tugged her hair over one shoulder, her eyes moving dazedly toward the source of all the noise, her gaze darkening at sight of her brand new door straining at its hinges.

A sudden brittle energy tightened her limbs, spurring her jump upward and Cordelia stalked toward the entrance to her apartment in a few angry paces. She flicked the lock off with a sharp turn of her wrist and grabbing the handle, she flung the door wide open, finding as expected, a 245-year old vampire apparently preparing to slam forward with all of his might. Or at least of much of his might as would be needed to free her door from its hinges. 

"I knew it!" Cordelia glared furiously at the surprised vampire, "I knew it. You were going to kick my door in. Again."

Angel straightened self- consciously. "No I wasn't."

Her glare darkened. 

Angel cleared his throat. "I wasn't going to kick it in. More like, gently nudge it with my shoulder."

Cordelia released a breath of deep frustration, stepping back to motion knowledgeably at the door. "An _entire week's wages Angel. That's what it cost to replace it after you bashed it in last time." A grimace stretched her lips, "Which admittedly was when you came to save my life but that doesn't mean you can make a damn habit of flinging your great big hulk of dead flesh against it every-time you take the fancy. Got it?"_

Angel shifted from one foot to the other, "You weren't answering. I was worried."

Cordelia threw her hands in the air, exasperation carved into every nuance of the gesture. "Okay, that would be because I was asleep. You know, sleeping, common mortal thing, hell you even indulge in it most days yourself."

"Its barely after ten, you didn't leave a note at the office, I thought maybe something was wrong…"

_The Pope couldn't keep his temper in a situation like this. Cordelia gave up trying._

"So what, you were going to cause criminal damage because I didn't leave a note? Geez, overreact much Angel?"

"And you know what with the lights left on, office door wide open and no sign of you…" Angel shrugged with deliberate nonchalance, "But you're right, I overreacted."

"I turned the…" Cordelia began hotly when memory struck, silencing her momentarily. An expression of burning mortification worked its way onto her face, and she turned away from him, taut fingers raised to her forehead. "Oh" she said, pacing back into the apartment. "Oh. Oh God." 

She swung around to face the vampire still hovering in the doorway. "Oh Angel, I am so sorry. Really, I am."

Angel stepped inside, his gaze scouring the apartment. "Its all right, I just wanted to check and see that you were okay." His eyes narrowed, "You are okay right, nothing happened earlier?"

Cordelia balanced herself on the edge of a chair. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just whacked and I didn't think. I can't believe I didn't think."

Her employer dropped onto the sofa with a weary sigh and propped his feet upon the smoothed edge of her coffee table. He sank his head against the soft panel top and allowed his battled body to relax. Reaching over, Cordelia pushed his feet down mechanically, her eyes still trained on the tufts of carpet gathered around her shoes. 

"I can't believe I did that."

Angel shifted his head sideways, "Forget about it. All's well that ends well and all that and are you even listening to me?"

Her head jerked up, an uncharacteristically shy smile jumping to her lips, "Sorry I know, no big deal right?"

A frown buckled his forehead. "Are you sure you're all right? No headache?" 

Cordelia smiled again. "No, nothing, like I said, just tired." She pushed herself backward into the chair, swinging her legs around deftly, "So, you caught the demon guy?"

"Yeah. Pretty ugly guy."

Cordelia shivered as echoes of the vision renewed their whispering. "Yeah tell me about it." She shifted abruptly, digging her heels into the corner of the chair, immediately regretting the movement, as she felt Angel's scrutiny of her intensify. She pulled her eyes upward to meet his own, pushing a fresh smile onto her face.

"So, bad guy killed, forgetful associate reprimanded, what else is on tonight's agenda?"

Angel didn't answer but leaned forward, his dark eyes contemplative. "What is it?" he asked finally, unconvinced by her apparent composure. 

Cordelia shrugged blankly. "What's what?" She regarded him with outward calm, the quick moistening of her lips the only sign of her disquiet.

Angel nodded thoughtfully, as though her response had confirmed some silent suspicion. He ignored her question, instead pulling a slow gaze over her small peaked face, his eyes gradually attracted by the rhythmic tapping of her hand against the dark patterned cushion resting upon her lap. Suddenly aware of the movement, Cordelia stilled her fingers and slid her hands beneath the cushion with awkward unease.

Angel surveyed her, a quiet anxiety brewing in his dark gaze. Cordelia was rarely downcast and never subdued. There was an unnerving air of despondency about his young Seer, an uncharacteristic and a disconcerting vulnerability that he had sensed for some time now. Old angers surfaced and Angel fought them firmly. Getting pissed at the PTB or the demons who had killed Doyle or Cordelia's parents for allowing her to come to this hellhole city in the first place, was as Angel had discovered in recent weeks, a pointless exercise that inevitably led him to the same thought.

_I don't know how to help her through this._

And yet, Angel mused, they muddled through. The visions, the investigations, life without Doyle, he and Cordelia were getting by. Though by the looks of his Seer, just about.

"Cordelia," Angel finally broke the pensive silence, his voice low and undemanding, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Cordelia smiled tightly. "Nothing Angel, I promise. It's just…"

Angel lifted a questioning eyebrow. "Just what?"

Cordelia twisted the frayed cushion threads through her fingers. "Tiredness, just tiredness."

"Tiredness" Angel's voice was filled with quiet disbelief. When Cordelia grew tired, she grew cranky. Not strangely quiet. "That's all?" he prompted gently.

Cordelia pulled the cushion from her lap, dropping it to the floor. "That's all," she promised brightly "So, you know, I really should head to bed, catch up on some rest. Clambering to her feet, she mustered a quick smile. "You don't mind, do you?" 

Vaguely conscious of the unnatural pitch of her voice, Cordelia stretched her smile, an inward hope that Angel would leave slowly dashed by the way in which he held her gaze, his eyes a peculiar mix of hesitant concern. 

_Please just go Angel._

Angel sensed her quiet desperation. She didn't want him to push. And he decided, pushing himself to his feet, he wouldn't, at least not, tonight. "Get some rest, take some time to yourself in the morning, there's no need to rush in."

Cordelia nodded and smoothed an invisible crease from her skirt, the task apparently consuming her attention. A distinct feeling of unease chilling his stomach, Angel stepped closer and tugged the soft cuff of her sweatshirt, pulling her reluctant attention toward him. 

"You do know" the vampire said quietly, "If anything is bothering you, I'm here."

Cordelia evaded his searching look, dipping her head as she edged past him, so that he barely caught her whispered reply. 

"I know."

*********************

A small smile crept onto her face, every trace of despair forgotten as she watched him, childlike in the mist, his figure lone beneath the arches. Her heart leapt with sudden pure pleasure and she chided herself for ever believing he had left. 

_What was I thinking?_

Leaning against the cool marble walls, cold from the twilight chill, Cordelia followed his playful movements. He lifted his hand, only to drop it, watching with fascination as it vanished into the dense fog that curled around him. The Irishman lifted his head idly, his gaze caught by her own, a silent surprise leaping into his blue eyes. His sheepish grin acknowledged her presence and with an outstretched hand, he beckoned her forward.

_Want to kiss a dead man Princess? _

_ _

Cordelia eyes snapped wide open, the dark of her bedroom almost smothering. Dragging her sweat layered body into an upright position, Cordelia struggled to catch her breath, pulling short gasps from the warm night air. 

_ _

_Just a dream, the girl reassured herself as she shifted backwards, her spine knocking against the headboard, __Just a dream. She kicked the duvet to the far end of the bed, and curving a clammy hand under her heaving ribcage, Cordelia concentrated on easing her breathing. _

Beside her, the bedside lamp flicked on, throwing a dim slant of light across the bed. Cordelia turned nervous eyes toward it.

_I am awake right?_

Anxiety faded, a low jolt of relief rippling through the girl as she remembered that she wasn't alone after all. 

"Dennis," she murmured, momentarily closing her eyes in quiet gratitude. _Everyone should have a dead roommate. _

Her cell-phone slid from the polished surface of her dresser, dipping down to float toward her. Drawing to a slow halt above her hands, the phone hovered uncertainly mid-air.

Cordelia pushed her sleep-tangled hair from around her face, "I'm okay Dennis, it wasn't a vision, I don't need to call anyone."

The ghost was apparently unimpressed by her response for the cell-phone jerked a little closer. 

Cordelia sighed, a sudden irrational irritation surging through her, "Drop it Dennis" she said shortly as she slumped backward,"It was just a nightmare. Remember those from your non-dead days? Geez, I'd have thought your Mom inspired more than one."

The room temperature plunged to an icy cold, and the cell-phone dropped to the bed with a soft thud, the lamp switching itself off with equal abruptness, leaving Cordelia sitting in the pitch black of darkness. She sat in the quiet for a short time, her thoughts alternating between penitent ruminations and annoyance at her own thoughtlessness. Dennis was particularly sensitive about his mother and she knew it. Worse still, he knew she knew it. 

_Only I could manage to piss off a dead roommate. _

_ _

"Dennis," she began quietly "Dennis, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I really didn't. I just, I just…" Her voice trailed into silence. 

The lamp sparked beside her, her faltering apology evidently enough to appease the offended ghost. Cordelia exhaled deeply. "Thanks Dennis," she said softly, stretching to turn her alarm radio around. 

5.30 am. A whole three hours sleep.

With deadened energy, Cordelia swung her legs around the side of the bed and stood, her feet sticky against the carpet. She padded to the bathroom, its clinical freshness jarring every weary sense.

Shower. Dress. Work.

Cordelia focused on the three simple tasks, managing to preoccupy her mind with the detail of each so that it wasn't until she stood under the streaming water, hair soaking wet, eyes closed tightly, that the dread, a sinking weight, returned.

************************

"You found the Text of Aberyion?"

Sudden enthusiasm lightening his accent, Wesley stretched forward and swung the journal around, dropping into a chair with an air of veritable delight. "I thought you had mislaid it."

"Hmm? Yeah it was in my drawer, Cordelia reminded me." Angel answered from the open doorway of his office where he stood, coffee mug in hand. He sipped on the hot drink, curls of steam gradually masking his face with a clammy mist, "Have you noticed anything odd about her lately?"

His fingers delicately separating the pages, Wesley murmured vaguely, "Ever so."

Angel lowered his mug, his eyes fixed on his employee. "Ever so what?"

Silence answered him. 

"Wesley?"

The Englishman spared him a distracted glance. "Hmm? My word Angel, the quality of this edition is quite astounding. I haven't seen a copy in such pristine condition from that era before, I rather think…"

"Wesley" The vampire's voice was filled with quiet demand, "I asked if you had noticed anything odd about Cordelia."

Wesley looked up reluctantly, a hand settling his glasses more securely on the bridge of his nose. "Odd?"

Satisfied that he had the other man's attention, Angel leaned against the sturdy doorframe and took another gulp of coffee, "I think maybe something's wrong."

Wesley considered the vampire silently. So that was it, he might have guessed as much. Angel had been muttering quiet concerns about their young associate for some time now, concerns that couldn't be entirely held as unfounded. A hand loosening his tie, Wesley cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat. "I know she has been quiet lately…"

Exactly" Angel interrupted, wagging a finger knowledgeably at his fellow associate, "Quiet and listless and a bit too reasonable for my liking." He pushed himself from the oak doorframe and slid a hand over the polished wood. "Something's wrong" he said in a tone of certain finality, "Something's definitely wrong."

Wesley looked at him in quiet amusement, wondering not for the first time, just how Angel had survived for so many years. Considering he had lived through two centuries, numerous wars, countless battles and the perilous Sunnydale Class 99 Graduation ceremony, he could be exasperatingly dim. 

"Angel," the ex Watcher said, mild irritation trickling into his voice, "Of course something is wrong."

Angel's hand stilled and he turned slowly toward the Englishman, his expression askance. "She's told you something?"

Wesley smiled thinly. "Angel, I don't pretend to know Cordelia as well as you do. However, I can only surmise that any individual, let alone a nineteen year old ex May Queen would find a new city, the loss of a dear friend and mind numbingly painful visions quite a lot to contend with. I would imagine that yes, something is quite wrong, I would go so far as to say Cordelia is struggling with all that she has had to face recently."

The vampire's face pained with sudden truth, the expression quickly masked by another of practised reserve. "I know," he said softly, running a finger the length of the Text of Aberyion, "I know she has had a lot to cope with. This city, the visions." His finger circled a wooden crevice. Throat dry, he swallowed. "Losing Doyle hasn't been easy."

Wondering if that sad guilt would always settle in Angel's eyes when Doyle was remembered, Wesley tried again, his voice filled with characteristic kindness. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories Angel, I simply wanted to point out that for a nineteen year old, Cordelia lives a very strange life. Its entirely natural that from time to time, she grows a little reticent."

"That's all you think it is?" Angel asked slowly, "Just reticence?"

"Cordelia is a remarkable young lady," Wesley told the vampire, quiet confidence etched in his tone, "She has the strengths and resources to carry her through. But there's no harm in keeping on you and I keeping a close eye on her."

Angel nodded in thoughtful agreement. "No harm at all."

*********************

Winding the fluffed towel around her damp hair, Cordelia tightened the belt of her bathroom robe, the fabric light and wispy against her bare skin. She wrapped her fingers around the crystal glass and drew the vessel to her lips. The scotch burned her throat, its liquid smoothness heating her deep within. Cordelia lazily ran her tongue over her teeth, soaking up the bitter taste of the spirit. Enjoying it. 

"Dennis?" she pushed the words from her mouth with effort, this third glass of scotch taking effect, "Phone please?"

The telephone skidded through the air, slapping abruptly into her outstretched palm. Cordelia squinted at the dial-pad and with great concentration, punched the number of Angel Investigations. The girl sat upright, ignoring a sudden wave of dizziness. 

_Clear head, clear head. _

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

A smile broke on Cordelia's face. _Wesley, not a problem._

"Wes, hi its me."

"Cordelia, good morning. I was just about to call and see if you were…"

"Wesley" Cordelia couldn't quite manage a conversation and she didn't intend to pursue one. "I'm not going to be in today. I'm a little tired."

_Well done. No slurring._

"That sounds wise Cordelia, Angel and I were just saying…"

"I know, he told me to take it easy, which is what I am going to do, so I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

_ _

"All right then, have a nice day Cordelia."

"Bye Wes."

Cordelia watched the receiver slip from her hand to the dark carpet beneath.

"Easy peasy, lemon squeezy," she murmured as her hand grappled for the scotch bottle. Refilling the glass, Cordelia watched the liquid swirl and churn its way around the vessel and as she stared, entranced by its agile swishing to and fro, for a time, she forgot.

***********************

The dance floor, sporadically illuminated with colourful flashes of artificial light, teemed with barely clad bodies. 

"I'm clad," Cordelia announced, her voice ground with firm conviction. Serena slid a cool look sideways. 

"Clad?"

"Clad" Cordelia confirmed gravely. Hands outstretched, she invited Serena to inspect her outfit, "Look at me, Clad girl, I'm clad".

Serena's lips twitched, a half smile escaping her. " To think I had to bully you into coming out with us tonight. Happy pills starting to work, Cordy?"

"Oh yeah" Cordelia agreed blissfully. She tilted her head back, her world weightless and free. "Happy, happy, happy."

"It's a good way to feel," the words floated past her, the voice smooth.

Cordelia spun around on her barstool, the movement slowed in motion. Steadying herself with a giggle, she looked up and found her gaze settling on a dark-haired stranger. He looks like Angel, she thought, immediately revising that impression as she scrutinised him more intently. He was tall and dark, yes, but shared nothing of Angel's striking features. There was something intriguing about him though, his slim face besetting a natural beauty, his quiet confidence drawing her closer. 

"Feeling happy is good" she said with a small smile.

"But new?"

She hesitated, confusion furrowing her face. Her gaze clinging to his own, she studied him silently. 

_What would he know?_

Exploring the depths, she found a wealth of experience in those eyes, a dark chasm of knowledge. _He knew._

"Very new," she agreed slowly.

"It shouldn't. You should always feel happy. There's so much you have, so much you could have."

He spoke plainly, without fervour, the words delivered as undiluted fact. He stared into her eyes and she fancied whimsically, her soul, with steady conviction in his gaze. The music faded, those near diminishing in presence so that all else was forgotten. 

"I understand Cordelia. I promise you, I know what it's like."

An irrational rush of happiness burst inside her, chemicals pushing through her.

_He knows my name. He knows me._

_ _

"What's your name?" Out of the thousand questions, she chose the most important. Her voice was strangely calm and sounded terribly distant for she didn't feel at all calm or collected. 

A smile glided across his face. "Jarod."

"Jarod." She liked the name. "How do you know me?"

His smile widened marginally, as though her question was ridiculous. As though she should know the answer. He leaned a little closer, his light breath warming her lips. "I would know you anywhere Cordelia. You're one of us."


	2. Chapter Two.

Take care of her

Disclaimer : The mighty Joss Whedon and the almost as mighty David Greenwalt own all. 

Thanks for the feedback so far, I admit to being shallow, positive feedback spurs me on!!! This is the second chapter, still rollicking along slowly, not a lot of action, more of an analysis of Cordy and Angel. The initial chapters, are I think, initially Cordy centred but the main man will have his own part to play a little later on…. 

As always, please let me know what you think. But now onto chapter two of

****

Body Armour.

__

Take care of her.

If taking care of Cordelia Chase consisted of watching the girl sit by the window while she lost her dull gaze in the L.A. skyline then Wesley mused, as he stepped a little closer to his young colleague, he was honouring Angel's earlier request with remarkable industriousness. Deciding that a more pro-active approach was perhaps in order, the ex Watcher forced a polite cough, "Would you like some tea Cordelia?"

Silence answered him. Cordelia sat in perfect stillness, her inert form casting a slender silhouette on the adjoining wall. She stared into the night, her thoughts evidently lost in the city beyond.

Easing closer, Wesley placed a timid hand upon her shoulder, "Cordelia?"

Cordelia stirred from her reverie and pulling her eyes from the twinkling city night, she turned to him with slow grace, her face darkened with a familiar unease, a quiet unrest which would only be appeased Wesley knew, by Angel's safe return. Another vision had sent the vampire racing into the murky depths of downtown L.A., leaving his youngest associate gripped by hidden anxiety for his safety. She had sat wordlessly, her thoughts far away, tension seizing her small frame. The ex Watcher had spent many such nights watching over her in recent weeks, an unspoken agreement between he and Angel acknowledging that Cordelia mustn't be left alone after a vision. And so, night after night, the vampire entrusted the trembling, vision wrenched girl to Wesley's care with one simple instruction. 

__

Take care of her.

Easier said than done, Wesley thought ruefully as Cordelia lifted those hazel eyes to meet his own. Apart from offering an aspirin and countless cups of tea, there seemed little he could do _but _watch over her. The vision would fade and the pair were left, the ex Watcher reading, the Seer silent and motionless, her entire being stressed with fear. A fear that was, Wesley often thought with a sharp unbidden longing, a testament to the friendship between she and Angel. Somehow, Wesley had grown accustomed to the warm relationship that existed between the sombre vampire and tempestuous ex-May Queen. They might and frequently did engage in verbal battles about the most banal and trivial of things, Cordelia more often than not exasperating the 246 year old vampire with her own unique and often questionable logic. Wesley had watched Cordelia tease their employer, the one time scourge of Europe and current terror of demon lowlife in L.A about his mono-themed wardrobe and rather remarkable brooding abilities. He had watched the same vampire silence Cordelia with a single glance, leaving the teenager to mutter darkly about the burdens of working with over-sensitive dead people.

And yet in the midst of such battles and dramas, Wesley had recognised the deep regard each held for the other. They cared for each other with the anxiety of family and while Cordelia might scoff at the idea of being a mother hen, her tender medical administrations to the oft-battered vampire, her habit of checking upon her friend first thing every morning and countless other subtle attentions all belayed otherwise. Angel was equally attentive, much to Wesley's initial astonishment. In Sunnydale, Wesley had always regarded the vampire with something akin to fearful awe. The man had always seemed so distant and remote, his detached presence silently intimidating. He remained an almost shadowed figure on the fringe of those surrounding the Slayer, watching and listening, occasionally offering his own thoughts on whatever dire crisis threatened. Wesley had paid a great deal of attention to the vampire in those early days, keen to determine the depth of the relationship between he and Buffy. The quiet affection, the private exchange of intimate glance, the fire with which he defended the Slayer in battle, all served to convince Wesley of Angel's intentions. He had found the vampire's remorse admirable, his pensive thinking impressive. 

Since his arrival in L.A, Wesley had glimpsed the depths of the man, chiefly through his relationship with Cordelia. The vampire who had been to Hell, who had faced The First, the Mayor and countless other terrifying beings thought nothing of cooking hearty breakfasts for Cordelia, or collecting her from her various auditions with minimal notice. Angel had guided her through these early visions with an unwavering care that couldn't help but impress and touch the Englishman. 

Just as he was impressed now, by the depth of concern settled in Cordelia's eyes, her expression softening with apology. "Hmm? Sorry Wes, I was daydreaming." Her gaze drifted back toward the large window, "Or I guess in this case, nightdreaming."

Wesley dropped into the chair opposite. "Perhaps," he suggested, propping his feet upon the edge of her book-strewn desk, "You should be sleeping."

A smile flickered on her lips. "Perhaps" Cordelia agreed softly. She shook herself as though to dispel the dark concerns haunting her troubled thoughts, and lifted her head, "Did he call in yet?"

Languishing back with a lethargic sigh, Wesley shrugged with deliberate calm. "Not yet. I shouldn't worry thought" he continued casually, drumming his fingers on the leathered side of his seat, rhythm in beat with his heart, "Angel may have some difficulty locating the demon. Your directions were a little vague." 

Cordelia bit her lip. "I know," she said, quiet despair lacing her tone. "The exact address was in the vision somewhere, I just couldn't quite pull it out."

Wesley cursed himself in dismay. _Make her feel inadequate, you bloody idiot. _"Cordelia," he hurried to correct his mistake, "I wasn't trying to imply you were at fault, I merely meant to say…"

Cordelia waved a dismissive hand. "Oh God, I know that Wes. Don't mind me. I'm just tired and cranky and feeling sorry for myself is all."

"You should go home, you know, you look awful."

Tugging dishevelled waves of dark hair into a tight ponytail, Cordelia grimaced, "Gee Wes," she smoothed her hands over her face, smothering a yawn, "You sure have that British charm thing down to a tee. Talk about making a girl feel good."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Wesley said patiently, "It's just that these visions from the Powers that Be are still relatively new to you. You're bound to find them tiring." He leaned forward, his inimitable gentleness sparking in his grey gaze, "They will get easier Cordelia, I promise."

Cordelia resisted the sudden urge to snap, to ask him just how images of death, murder, evil and the darkest of mayhem could ever possibly be anticipated with anything other than sickening dread. If it were anyone else, she might have said just that. But Wesley, with his kind unwavering honesty and indomitable sense of chivalry didn't deserve that. Swallowing hard, she exhaled a painful breath, nodding with a tight smile. 

"You're right Wes, I'll be like perfect vision girl in a month. And I will head home. Once I know Angel is safe."

"I am," a familiar voice calmly announced from the main office entrance.

The pair jumped in unison and turned to find their employer hovering in the doorway, blood splattered sword in hand. Angel nodded absent-mindedly at them, his eyes scouring the office, hunting. Spying the umbrella holder, the vampire moved toward it and leaning the sword against the metallic bucket, he stepped back gingerly, avoiding any contact with the red liquid staining the weapon. Satisfied that it would stand steady, Angel turned around, satisfaction relaxing his frame as he jostled his duster off. 

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" The vampire wandered toward the coffee machine and inspected the tins lined neatly beside it, frowning as he queried, "We're out?"

"No I bought some this morning." Cordelia sprang to her feet with renewed energy, trepidation fading at the sight of her friend, safely home with all limbs intact, "It's behind the machine. Is that yours?" She pointed to the sword.

Snaking an arm around the back of the coffee machine, Angel spared her an indignant look. "Of course it's mine. Since when do I take trophies home from battle?"

Cordelia managed to look saint-like and smug all at once. "I meant the blood. I thought you might be hurt." 

"Oh," Angel answered sheepishly, fully aware of how Cordelia enjoyed spontaneous fits of martyrdom, "Well, no it's not mine. All the other guys."

"That's good becau…"

"Tough battle?" Wesley interrupted saving his employer from another sanctimonious comment from Cordelia, ignoring the glare he received from said individual. The girl viewed tormenting the vampire as a legitimate hobby at times, and lo and behold those who interfered in her pursuit of the sport.

Angel shot Wesley a look of quiet gratitude as he resumed his search for the coffee bag. "Tough enough," he answered, his teeth gritted as he tugged the bag from its convoluted entanglement in the machine wires. "It wasn't the brightest guy though, that always helps."

A sudden memory flashed in Cordelia's mind, that same demon towering over the helpless tramp, its menace deadly. She shuddered, feeling it close. 

Angel caught the movement. He pulled himself upright. "Cordelia?" 

Cordelia stood motionless, her eyes strangely riveted by the bloodied sword behind him. The vampire exchanged a worried glance with Wesley and the Englishman joined him in taking a tentative step closer to the young girl. Angel sidestepped, blocking her view of the weapon and waited patiently as she raised confused eyes to meet his own. 

"Cordelia?" he said again, unsure as to whether she was actually seeing him.

She smiled abruptly, artificial luminosity forced onto her face. "I'm fine, just being total wig girl tonight. Just ask poor Wes."

Angel surveyed her, silent weariness consuming him. She seemed to slip farther and farther away from him each day, her presence fading into a mere ghost of the laughing young woman he remembered designing the agency emblem. So much had happened since then.

__

What if she can't find her way back?

"Cordelia" he began quietly, slow determination firing within him. 

__

I won't allow her to stay this way. I won't allow it.

The telephone began a shrill ringing and Cordelia turned toward it with a low groan, "I swear if this is Giles again wanting me to look up some dusty old book…"

She switched to what she called her "pull em in" voice. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless, oh hi Serena. Oh my gosh, I had forgotten, no it's fine, I can make it," 

A warm smile jumping to her lips, Cordelia launched into an animated discussion with the caller and taking advantage of her distracted state, Angel leaned over to the Englishman.

"Has she been all right tonight?"

Wesley grimaced, "More or less as usual. Quiet and a little despondent."

"I have to go" Cordelia interrupted cheerily, replacing the receiver. She hovered over her desk, plucking a stray item here and there to fling into her bag. "It's Emily's birthday and I completely forgot so I have to run, see if I can pick her up something on the way."

Deciding there and then that the walking paradox that was Cordelia Chase was beyond his comprehension, Angel forced a bright expression onto his face. "That's great," he said enthusiastically, "You should go out, have fun. Be young and foolish. No don't be foolish. Be young and safe. Safe is good. Let me give you a ride."

"No thanks," Cordelia shifted manuscripts crumbled with age aside in her hunt for gloss lipstick. "Serena is picking me up around the block." She reached for the filo-fax and flipped through it, discreetly tugging her work-id free. "I have your cell-phone number if I need anything."

Flashing a quick smile at the two men, Cordelia looped her bag overshoulder. "See you two tomorrow then."

She swung the door open and was gone, taking the briefly vibrant atmosphere with her. Angel curved back on one heel and eyed Wesley hopefully, "So maybe, she's all right? She just needs to spend more time with her friends and do things that people her age do. I mean maybe," the vampire turned and paced back toward his abandoned coffee mug, "Maybe, I'm just overreacting."

Wesley jammed the door shut, his heart sinking. He had been reluctant to admit to concerns about Cordelia, fearing he would fuel Angel's fears unnecessarily. After all, he didn't have anything concrete or conclusive to offer. 

__

Don't you?

The recent nights he had spent with her, her quiet form huddled away in deep thought. The faint whiff of scotch smothered by breath mints in the mornings. The stifled personality of a young lady he was proud to name a friend. Her sudden interminable chatter when Angel appeared, knowing perhaps that unlike Wesley, the vampire would push, get close. 

__

She panics when we get too close.

"I think" Wesley said finally, "That she would very much like us to believe that everything is all right, when in fact" His grey gaze met dark and he saw his own anxiety mirrored there, "In fact, I fear Cordelia is quite lost at the moment."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Cordelia watched as Emily lurched on unsteady feet. Her friend swayed, her hands grappling for support.

"Where are you going Em?" Cordelia asked, impressed by her friend's efforts at mobility. She was perfectly confident that she would be unable for similar exertions. 

Clutching her seat, Emily tilted around. She leaned down and inspected the line of empty shot glasses that curved around the circular bar table, a testament to the night's alcohol consumption.

"Looks like we are all out," the pretty blonde declared with a slight shrug.

Bleary eyed, Serena squinted at the table. "We drank all that?"

"And then some," Cordelia agreed with a shaky nod of her head, "Remember we figured drinking in single numbers was an omen that Em wouldn't get next weeks audition?"

Serena crumpled in a fit of uncharacteristic mirth, her howls attracting bemused smiles from the nearby tables. "We should stop," she finally managed, "Can you imagine the headaches we'll have tomorrow?"

A sudden memory of Doyle, crippled by an eye-burning headache, flashed in Cordelia's mind.

__

Doyle

A sudden grief ripped through her. _I miss you._ The thought almost blinded her.

"Cordy?"

Emily was peering at her with concern.

Screw it, Cordelia decided, time to forget. She indicated toward the bar. 

"Go on then Em. Doubles all round."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Cordelia hid a smile behind her glass of water as she watched Emily battle the advances of a persistently amorous male. She was failing miserably when one scowl from Serena sent the poor unfortunate scuttling in the opposite direction. It would, Cordelia mused, take a very brave man to face off with Serena. 

"Not up to dancing?"

She whipped her head around and found another had slid beside her on the couch. 

"Jarod. Nice to be sneaked up on again."

He relinquished a careful smile as he reclined back, his arm resting on a rather tattered looking cushion. "I saw you sitting here alone. I thought, you might like some company."

Cordelia shrugged, her coolness deliberate. "Oh come on Jarod. I'm sure you know exactly what I like, seeing as you know me so well and all."

"Let me guess," Jarod said gravely, "You're generally nicer when you take happy pills?" 

Her eyes widened with sudden indignation. "I'll have you know that I am considered to be a very nice…"

Mirth swam in his blue gaze, teasing her and rather than finishing her retort, Cordelia found herself grinning.

"All right," she admitted bashfully, toying with a strand of hair dipping over her face, "So maybe happy pills make me a little nicer." 

Jarod shrugged innocently, as though his guess had been one of wild abandon. He smoothed a hand over the velvet cushion, tugging the small tassels apart, so that the strings of thread lay spilt and open. "But, you're not feeling quite as relaxed tonight?

"I'm not under the influence of anything if that's what you mean." Cordelia eased her neck from side to side, a small sheepish smile curving her lips, "At least," she amended a little guiltily, "Not anything illegal." The dark-haired girl raised the glass and sipped on her water, savouring the refreshing coolness. "And before you subject me to twenty questions again, how about you answer some of mine?"

Jarod abandoned the cushion and straightened, peeling his hands apart to spread them outright, "Work away."

Cordelia lowered the glass onto the stained beer mat. She turned back to him, evaluating him carefully. "I still can't place you so what's with the mysterious you know me thing?" Have we been in a drama class or something?"

"Or something"

Cordelia's eyes darkened. "Not an answer and I'm not playing this game anymore. Either you tell me how you know me or I leave."

Jarod heaved a long breath, "Cordelia, I wasn't lying that night. I know you." His hand resumed its caress of the cushion.

She waited in impatient silence. "Look," she said finally, "It's a bit freaky when somebody claims to know you but they're not willing to tell you how or why."

"I know what you are" Jarod broke in, his tone enveloped with sudden resolve, "I know what Doyle was and I know what Angel is."

Cordelia stared at him for a half breath, a thousand terrible thoughts flitting through her stunned mind. She backed away, flinging a hand under the table for her bag. "I tell you what," she struggled to control the tremble in her voice, forcing herself to concentrate on wrapping her fingers around the strap of her leather bag, "You stay the hell away from me, or you'll get to know Angel really well." 

"Cordelia, I wasn't lying either when I said you were one of us. I'm just like you."

She raised horrified eyes to meet his blue stare. "Stop saying that."

"It's the truth."

"I'm nothing like you. You talk about me like I'm a category, a, a…"

"Seer?" Jarod finished for her, quietly.

Cordelia sat, stricken. _He knew_. _Oh God, he really knew._ Her fingers stilled. "Who the hell are you?"

"I told you, I'm just like you." Jarod reached for her water and stealing a long sip, he moistened his lips with the liquid. He rested the glass on the bare edge of the table, his finger tracing its outline. "I'm a Seer, Cordelia. I know what it's like to have these visions that just rip you apart from the inside out. I know how it feels to lose every inch of who you are in someone else's torment."

Cordelia's eyes flashed. "So you say. But how the hell do you know about me? I don't advertise who I am, what happens to me."

"Angel's the big name in town Cordy. Everyone knows who he is and since a couple of weeks ago, what his Seer is worth."

Cordelia flinched at the mention of the auction. "What do you want from me?" She ground the words out, a dark hurt growing inside. 

__

He just sits there and talking about my life, full of pretty words. 

__

He doesn't know anything.

"I just want to be a friend Cordelia. We are alike, you and I."

Cordelia turned away and stared at the heaving dance floor in grim silence. She collected herself slowly and turned back to him, icy cold. "Thanks, but I have all the friends I need."

"Sure," Jarod agreed pleasantly, " A 245 year old vampire and an Englishman, both of whom think you're flighty and frivolous and all together too damn immature for the job you've been given from the mighty powers above. The same guys who don't understand what these visions do to you, what they drive you to."

"You don't know anything about Angel or Wes" Cordelia contested hotly. 

"And they don't know anything about you," Jarod rejoined, his tone equally heated. He rose and slipped a hand around her wrist, pulling her to her feet. "But I do Cordy. I know exactly what it's like to feel that damn low. To see those horrors. And I can help you through it. You think you can't control what you can see, how you see it. You think you're just a tool? You're much more than that. The Powers that Be need you. So that makes you the strong one. You're the one with the power here Cordelia. It's up to you how you use it."

Cordelia slowly freed her wrist from his clasp. She regarded him in momentary bewilderment, allowing his words to reverberate through her mind, the meaning sinking deep within. His promise of clarity lured her and knowing she couldn't, wouldn't leave with questions plaguing her forever, Cordelia slumped back down, surrender in the movement. 

"I believe you," she said simply.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"Here we are then."

Jarod scanned the property appreciatively. "It looks like a nice place."

"It is." Cordelia looked ruefully toward the door, "I would invite you in, it's just that my friends are staying over and", a small frown wrinkled her forehead, "Hang on, I take that back. I don't want you thinking I invite strange people in, not that you're strange but…"

"I understand" Jarod promised, amusement sunk in his features, "But you have my number, I hope you use it."

Cordelia clicked a silver heel against the ground. "You think I should?"

Jarod surveyed her, his gaze achingly steady. "You don't want to? After everything I've told you about your visions?"

"About your visions," Cordelia corrected him. She exhaled deeply, her gaze falling to her stiletto garbed feet. "Everything you told me tonight sounded great, I mean that you can control the visions, dictate what you want to see, when you see it but maybe that's not for me. I'm not good with responsibility. Handing the visions over to Angel, maybe that's what works for me."

"But you don't" Jarod interjected with that smooth confidence.

Cordelia's head whipped up. "Don't what?" 

"You don't hand the visions over to Angel. You pass him the information, enough so he can go kill the demon but you're left with the horrors, the nightmares, and the dread. He can't help you with that. He doesn't even try."

"That's not true" Cordelia protested immediately, an old loyalty springing to the fore. "Whatever you know about these visions, you know nothing about Angel and I. About our friendship. I can talk to him about anything."

"So, you have told him about me?" Jarod held her gaze, his eyes demanding.

"There was nothing to tell, I didn't want to…"

"So, you'll tell him about me tomorrow?"

Cordelia lapsed into silence, her heart heavy. "No," she managed finally, unsure of everything except that she wouldn't tell Angel any of this.

__

Why not?

__

Because Angel wouldn't like it. Cordelia knew that for certain. She could just picture the countless questions and dark suspicions of endless possibilities. Best case scenario, Angel would insist on meeting Jarod, worst case, he'd somehow manage to make sure she kept away from Jarod. 

__

Angel can't bully you like that, some rebellious part of her mind decided.

__

He can damn well try though.

Uncertain as she was of everything else, Cordelia was adamant in the darkest corners of her thumping heart that she couldn't stay away from Jarod. Not after everything he had told her, promised, the quietness of him that pulled her near.

She swallowed, her throat gratingly dry. "I'm not going to tell him." 

"If it's worth anything, I think you're right not to tell him anything, just yet. Have a think about things, make up your own mind, independently. Its been a while since you made a decision for yourself" Jarod said softly, "I'll leave it to you to contact me this time."

With a small smile, he circled a turn and walked away, his step firm. Cordelia suppressed a sudden urge to follow, to beg him to show her all he had promised. Instead, she stuck her hand in her pocket and fingered a small slip of paper on which he had scribbled his number. Clutching it tightly, Cordelia watched as he disappeared into the night, stealing hope with him. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The voice slammed her into reluctant consciousness, pulling her from the comfort of deep slumber. Deep deep sleep. 

"Cordy, please just look at me. You can do that much right?"

Cordelia groaned as she struggled to comply with what felt like an impossible request. Forcing her eyes to open, she immediately winced beneath the heavy weight that settled directly behind them. Pulsing, throbbing weight. The very notion of moving a limb seemed an insurmountable task. A dry parching thirst cramped her mouth.

__

Hangover. 

"Oh God, please just kill me now" she mumbled into the pillow.

"I don't know about God, but your boss might. He just called to remind you that you were supposed to be at the office an hour ago." 

"Angel called?" Cordelia's voice asked mournfully from the depths of the feather pillow, "He knows I'm still in bed?"

Serena nodded gingerly, a sudden headache dulling her own senses. She lifted cold fingers to her temples and soothed the throbbing pain with light circular motions. 

"Yeah, I said you weren't feeling well but that you were on your way in. You want me to call him back, tell him you won't make it in today?"

The form in the bed somehow managed to shake her head. "No way." With tremendous effort, Cordelia pulled herself around so that she was facing her friend. 

Cordelia looked, Serena decided, awful. Matted hair fell around a pinched face, hazel eyes deadened with exhaustion, her gaunt cheeks devoid of any colour.

"You should stay put." Serena spoke with conviction. No way would Cordy want to show that pasty face around town. "You really look like, well, like you should hide all day long."

"I have to go in. I have to drop my fake id-card back in the office before Angel spots that it's missing."

Serena looked painfully confused, though Cordelia reflected mournfully, the expression could be the natural consequence of drinking 11 shots of tequila the night before. 

"My work-id is for when we have to go to clubs, looking for people or talking to informants" Cordelia explained hoarsely as she gingerly propped herself up on her elbows, "I'm not supposed to take it out of the office."

"He doesn't let you use it for carding?" Serena rolled her eyes, her face filling with characteristic scorn, "He's just your boss, how come he's so protective? Geez, for a young guy, he can act pretty old. "

"Tell me about it." Cordelia tossed the bedcovers free from her uncomfortably warm body and wriggled her legs in the cool morning air. "But I told you before, we were friends before this whole work arrangement thing ever came about and I guess he feels like he should look out for me." 

She grimaced as she thought about just how overprotective Angel could be. "A lot. He'd kill me if he knew I used that card to get into clubs. Or if he knew I was drinking. Especially the amount I drank last night. He's just old fashioned. Obey the law and all that." 

Cordelia turned regretful eyes to her pillow. It would be so nice not to have to pretend to be fine around Angel and Wes. So tempting just to slouch back onto the pillow, drift back to sleep…

"Cordy," Serena's voice slipped into expert mode, "You work like the strangest hours for him. You're entitled to a life in your time off. And if making use of a fake id-card helps make that life better, well then your boss should deal." "Besides" Serena asked with a slight shrug "What's he going to do if he finds you took it?" 

Head precariously near the pillow, Cordelia tried to ponder the question rationally. _What exactly could he do? Fire me? No, he needs the visions. Dock my pay? That's illegal. Leave me in the office all day? He does that anyway_. _There's not much he can do except scold me. _Cordelia might have felt marginally better, had it not been for the images of a darkly silent, intimidating employer that slowly pulled her logic to small pieces.

"Trust me when I tell you, he has ways of making me suffer. I'll just have to get up, get the id back and hope he hasn't noticed," she decided with a breath of deep conviction. 

She dangled her legs over the edge of her bed and stood. A little too quickly apparently for a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelmed the nineteen-year old. She stretched a hand outward, grasping Serena for support.

"Oh yeah" Serena said wryly as she held onto her still swaying friend, "You get the id back and he'll never notice a thing."

Cordelia made a face at the other girl and began a slow hobble toward her wardrobe. "Emily still asleep?"

"Completely out of it," Serena replied as she slid back the bed. She curled back. "Cordy?"

"Yeah?" 

"You gonna tell me about that guy last night?" 

Cordelia tugged a pair of jeans from her wardrobe and busied herself with choosing a matching top. "Guy?"

"Yes" Serena drawled in amusement, "You know the guy you talked to all night long, the one that drove you home two hours after Emily and I got here."

Cordelia turned guiltily, "I'm really sorry about that, I mean I tell you guys to stay over and then I let you make your own way home."

"I'll forgive you," Serena smiled slyly, and pounding the pillow into a comfortable shape, she settled back, "If you tell me the story with that Jarod guy."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "There really isn't a story."

__

At least, not one I can tell. Let's see, Serena, Jarod has been a Seer for three years. He has visions but has slowly learned to control them so that he can actually induce one when he wants to know something. He's not a messenger, more like a partner. He can teach me everything he knows. He has helped others like me, and hell, I don't even understand it. 

"Cordy?"

Cordelia turned and hastily tugged a black blouse from a wire hanger. "Serena, honestly, there's nothing to tell and I really have to go, or Angel will kill me."

She smiled apologetically at her grumbling friend and bundling her clothes together, she disappeared into the bathroom. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"You know what? I just can't bring myself to like that Serena girl."

Wesley cast the ancient Sumarian sword through the air, each swishing movement expertly gentle. "Cordelia's unwell?"

"According to Serena," Angel said dryly, tossing blood vials into the refrigerator, "Cordelia's probably sleeping last night off."

Wesley stilled his swordplay and rounded the corner. "Angel, I merely said I had suspicions, that's all. I didn't mean to suggest that Cordelia has a problem, or …"

"A nineteen year drinking scotch first thing in the morning _is_ a problem Wesley." Angel slammed the refrigerator door closed. He spun around and leaned back against the kitchen counter, frustration etched in his expression, "She's taken her work id out of the office you know and I have warned her not to do that before. She's using alcohol as a crutch Wesley, to get her through the day. That's not a good thing. She's just going to have to talk about whatever is going on. When Doyle passed these visions on to her, I promised myself, I wouldn't let it affect her more than it has. I'd keep her out of the battlefield, keep her safe. She's only nineteen years old for Christ's sake" His palms dug into the counter surface. "That's all there is to it. End of the drama and the quiet listless Cordy, she's just going to have to talk."

Wesley cleared his throat politely. "Well, such a discussion would require a great deal of sensitivity…"

"Hey," Angel straightened self-consciously, "I'm Mr Sensitive. Hell, I touched the stick."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Ignoring the endless reverberation of painful thumping in her head, Cordelia plastered a bright smile onto her face and pushed the door to Angel Investigations wide open. 

"Good morning," she greeted an empty office. Her smile vanished and Cordelia trudged wearily to the coffee machine, her bag slipping from her hand to the floor beneath. 

"Thank you God," she murmured to herself as she flicked the switch on and watched the machine spurt to uncertain life. "Now why don't you be an extra nice deity and keep the office free of the living and the dead till at least lunch time." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The coffee tasted every bit as bad as it looked. Re-hydration is the name of the game, Cordelia reminded herself, as she forced the last few drops past her lips. Lowering the mug, she slid it to the edge of her desk and turned to her pile of paperwork with a heavy sigh. 

__

Who ever would have thought demon hunting involved so much typing and filing?

The thumping in her head suddenly magnified, pounding against her skull. Every muscle clenched, her hands grabbed the sides of the chair. _Not a vision, _she pleaded in quiet mental desperation, _I can't handle one right now. _Relief soothed her slightly addled mind as the pain faded, apparently a mere reminder of her alcohol intake the night before.

"Never again," she vowed aloud, her body relaxing, "I am never ever going to do this to myself again."

"Do what to yourself?" 

Cordelia started at the sound of Angel's low voice. Her eyes jumped to the doorway of the inner office, where the vampire hovered, Wesley by the sounds of it, clambering his way out of the elevator behind. 

Angel carefully gauged her reaction to his sudden appearance and question. Her face fell at the sight of him, her wary guilt quickly vanquished by a forced smile. Her small shadow smudged face seemed paler than usual, her body burdened with exhaustion. Caging the urge to interrogate her, Angel merely raised an eyebrow in interest. "Well?"

"I am never going to allow my paperwork pile up like this again. Morning Wes." Cordelia tore her eyes from Angel and smiled at the Englishman. 

"Good morning Cordelia. Did you enjoy your evening?"

"Yeah," Cordelia said cheerfully. She switched the computer on, and flicking her hair back, turned her attention to the paperwork, "I had a great time. Sorry I'm late this morning, we chatted all night."

"Its all right" Angel tugged a drawer of the filing cabinet open and began to rummage through the slender files, "We're quiet here, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay." Cordelia murmured, suppressing the sudden flicker of annoyance that rocked through her. Angel could be so damn over bearing sometimes, it's like he thinks….

Sanity disappeared as a crippling pain flung her forward, a gasp escaping her lips. Sudden images tore their way through her mind, almost too fast for her to comprehend. The pain roared around her but beneath it's weight, she adjusted to the vision, forcing herself to see. It diminished, the sights vanishing, swallowed by those who sent the vision and dragging a long breath into her burning lungs, Cordelia opened her eyes.

She found herself steadied in Angel's arms, his dark gaze piercing her own. 

  
"I'm okay," she said breathlessly, clutching his chest, not quite trusting her feet. Angel lowered her into the chair with gentle skill.

"I'm okay," she repeated. "You have to go to 1118 Old Ocean drive. There's a kid, he's like seven, at home with some woman. I think maybe his dad's new girl." Cordelia swallowed unpleasantly, bile rising at the memory. "Surprise. She's a demon."

"I'm on it" Angel muttered, releasing his hold upon his young Seer. He spun around and grabbed his coat.

"Wes," he began.

"should go along," Cordelia finished. She raised a hand to silence Angel's predictable protest, "The demon looked nasty, I don't want to have to worry about you all afternoon. Besides, I want to pick up some supplies and things so I have plenty to keep me busy."

She transferred a stern stare upon the Englishman. "I mean it, big demon with lots of horns. Definitely requires two."

Behind her, Angel's gaze grew strangely gentle. Moving closer, he placed a hand on Cordelia's shoulder, "If you're sure."

"Positive," Cordelia promised, slapping his hand affectionately, "Go already."

Nodding sharply at Wesley, Angel tugged the weapon bag over his shoulder and moved toward the door, the ex-Watcher a half step behind. "We'll be back as fast as we can." The vampire paused, "Hang about here though, I want to speak to you about something."

Cordelia lifted tired eyes. "Sounds mysterious."

Expression inscrutable, Angel opened the door. "Nothing major. We'll talk later."

Cordelia nodded nonchalantly and watching the door swing closed behind the vampire, she reached for the phone. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

"What am I doing?" Cordelia muttered to herself, as she scanned the coffee pavilion. She tilted back in the metallic chair and fidgeted with the afternoon menu. Calling Jarod a bare half hour ago had seemed logical, instinctive almost. Now though… if Angel knew…

Casting another harried glance around her, Cordelia comforted herself with the thoughts that the vampire was safely on the opposite side of town, battling a slime demon. Besides, she reminded herself, I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm just meeting a friend. A tingle of excitement spindled through her as her thoughts turned to Jarod. 

__

Nothing wrong with meeting a friend.

And yet, it felt strangely forbidden. Illicit almost. Cordelia had never thrived on a clandestine way of life. Concealing her ill-fated romance with Xander Harris had proved one of the most stressful experiences of her life. She wasn't used to lying or being deceitful.

__

I think it, I say it. Its my way.

"Cordelia."

The voice pulled her from the sudden darkness she had plunged into, dragging her thousands of feet to safety.

Jarod stood in front of her, his gaze searching. "Are you all right?"

Brandishing a warm smile, Cordelia motioned to the seat. "I'm fine. Just fine."

He pulled the seat outward and settled down, arranging himself comfortably within the tight confines of the metal chair. "You sounded upset on the phone."

The girl moistened her lips, her smile slipping. "I had a vision."

Jarod leaned forward, "Bad?"

A small laugh slid though her lips and Cordelia nodded slowly, "Pretty much. Big slime demon threatening a little kid, I sent my best friend out to fight it, so yeah, you could say bad." 

His hand caught her own. "Come on," he said pulling her to her feet, "Time to show you good." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Cordelia slipped her key into the lock and nudged the door open. The offices were blanketed in dusky gloom but through strained eyes, she could make out a familiar form in the inner office. 

Angel had a penchant for sitting in the quiet of black, lost in thought. 

"I'm back" Cordelia greeted wearily, her eyes throbbing. The afternoon seemed an age away, the magic of conversation lost. And yet, she recalled each minute with a sudden pulsing joy, that sudden unfolding of knowledge, the litany of wisdom springing from his lips. The meditation, the dream-like vision he had guided her through with gentle care, the sudden clarity…

"So I see." 

Her drifting thoughts dissipated, and she found herself staring at the now standing Angel.

"Yeah" she murmured, moving to the lamp on her desk. She switched it on, an eerie glow shining from its weakening bulb. "Remind me to replace that tomorrow." 

"Will do." Angel moved quietly into the outer office, his hands resting lightly in his pockets.

Cordelia surveyed him curiously. Something was distracting him. "You okay?"

"Yeah" Angel answered slowly, leaning against the wall. His gaze grabbed her own, his eyes gently demanding. "Are you?"

The words died in the silence of the night. 

__

Don't tell him.

The urge was primal, the need to protect instinctive. Angel couldn't know about Jarod, he wouldn't understand. 

__

I have to tell him something. I know him, that look of persistence, he won't let this go until he thinks he has everything fixed.

So let him think that. It's not a lie. Things are good. He doesn't need to know why. 

Cordelia hitched a breath and smiled uneasily. She tilted back against her desk, her nails digging into the wood. 

__

Fine, I can do this. 

Cordelia was good at a great many things. Lying to Angel, she was quite sure, wasn't one of them.

__

Limit the lying.

"You know what?" she began haltingly, the words catching in her throat, "I haven't been. Okay that is, not for some time now." She risked a glance upward, her heart tightening at his expression. Honest, open, trusting. Trusting her. "I haven't been okay and I haven't been able to manage that. At least not very well. I guess you've noticed."

"Once or twice." Smooth humor lined Angel's tone, his eyes gentle.

"Yeah, well I have been stupid. Drinking when I shouldn't be. Not eating or sleeping or really doing anything that resembled healthy living and that all kind of hit me today. I've spent the afternoon thinking about it and between Doyle and the visions, you know I've had it tough. I am entitled to feel lousy and I guess I just have to accept that while things will get better, they're not going to today. And in the meantime, I'll just have to take care of myself and remember that nothing or no-one has ever beaten Cordelia Chase." She bit her lip, the pain forcing tears to her eyes.

__

Look believable.

"At least not yet."

"Not ever" Angel resolved slowly as he heeled himself from the wall. 

"Not ever" Cordelia agreed, allowing him to pull her into a gentle hug. Her face smothered in his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her, Cordelia squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the sudden self-hatred that swamped her. 

__

It wasn't all a lie. It wasn't all a lie. It wasn't all a lie.

It just wasn't the truth.


	3. Chapter Three

The sand tickled her toes and stepping free from the open toe sandals, Cordelia swished her feet through the dune surface, the feathery grains massaging her weary skin __

Disclaimer: It still all belongs to Joss and David.

Thanks for all the feedback so far, all very encouraging. Please review and let me know how you think this is going, the review is at the end but all of my fics tend to have a nice big space between chapter end and box.. don't let that put you off !! This fic may be a little longer than I originally anticipated, so bear with me, we'll get there in the end…

****

But for now, here's chapter three of 

Body Armour.

The sand trickled through her toes, tickling her. Cordelia stepped out of her open toe sandals and swished her feet through the warm sand, the feathery grains massaging her weary skin. Gazing out at the ocean, an expression of pure delight crossed her face and turning, she flung her arms around her companion. 

"It's beautiful here" she murmured into the soft of his neck, "Thank you."

Jarod squeezed her gently and stepped back, nodding toward the shimmering water. "I didn't create it, just found it." 

Cordelia nodded enthusiastically as taking her hand, Jarod led her down the dune. "It's so quiet, no people or screaming children, or…"

"Lifeguards" Jarod said teasingly, earning himself a solid slap from Cordelia. He threw himself down and tugged her beside him, "I found this place a few years ago. I wasn't doing so well and I found the quiet resting." He turned to her speculatively, "I guess you'd understand."

Cordelia surveyed the ocean, confusion creasing her brow. "It's so peaceful here, so tranquil, it's hard to believe here, that there is such darkness out there. All that pain," her voice fell to a low whisper, "all that grief." 

She fell silent, sudden disquiet settling within.

"It's out there," Jarod promised softly, staring ahead "You know it, better than many. It's out there but in the midst of it, you have to hang on to here. Find it and keep it." 

Cordelia followed the lazy path of a young seabird, "You really think I can?"

Jarod slid her a sideways glance. "You've done it before. Let me show you how to again."

*****************

The sky swirled above her, mingling with every sense. She could touch the damp feather tresses of each cloud, her skin tinged with vivid blue.

"Can you feel it?"

That voice, as natural as the breath she drew, soothed her, called her home.

"Yes," she breathed, "I can feel it all."

And she could. Slow understanding had dawned, this power to embrace with every sense. 

He sprinkled a little more powder on her brow, "What can you see?"

Cordelia concentrated, softly pulling the images together. "There's so much," she murmured, hardly aware of his light squeeze of her shoulder, "There's a bright light, surrounded by darkness but that light, it won't, it can't be dimmed." Something caught her attention and she turned a slow gaze toward it, "There's a warrior, guiding the innocent to safety. And two, torn apart and there's you." Cordelia's voice raised a pitch as she stared in wonderment, "There's you."

A wincing ache caught her and she cried out in sudden pain, her body drained and limp. Hands lifted her into a sitting position, the sky vanishing and she found herself staring into now familiar eyes. 

"What happened?" Bewilderment carved into every feature, Cordelia slid a hand up his shoulder. "I saw everything and then it vanished. It hurt."

"Only because it's new," Jarod assured her gently. Lifting a sand-grained hand, he pushed ragged strands of hair from her face, caressing her cheek tenderly, "You'll be fine. Just tired for a while."

"I saw it all," Cordelia said, eyes gleaming, "I saw things, just by trying."

"You did very well," Jarod told her, his hand stilling on her cheek, "You saw me?"

Cordelia searched his enigmatic gaze, "You were there, as a strong presence. What does it mean?"

"It's like any other vision," Jarod told her, slipping an arm around her waist. He lifted her to her feet and pulled her against him, walking her against his frame, "It's a message but this time, it's not for Angel, or anyone else, it's for you. So If I was in it, it means…"

Cordelia drew to a halt and surveyed him thoughtfully, the dying sun glinting in her dark hair. "It means that you're part of the future, in some way or another."

Jarod dusted a hand on his trousers, a smile her reward. "I certainly hope so Cordy. But come on, we need to get you back home."

"Back to work, you mean." 

Jarod looked at her in surprise, "You have to go back? I thought we could do a little more…"

"No can do, I told them I was at an audition," Cordelia said very definitely, "What can I say, Angel is a real stickler about hours."

*****************

Allowing a wave of tiredness and a deadening weight of despair to envelop her, Cordelia wallowed in it for a half moment, the prospect of staying awake for much longer unbearable. Her hand slid against the wall, support slipping and pulling herself together with a sharp jerk, Cordelia straightened. 

Fainting _not _an option.

Vision enhancing powder another definite no-no. Dusting her forehead, Cordelia inspected her hand for any trace of the substance and satisfied she was powder free, she took a deep breath and wrapped her fingers around the brass door handle. The office door loomed over her, diminishing her afternoon. Behind it, lay questions and memories, terrible memories clutching her, pulling her down. 

__

Wanna kiss a dead man, Princess?

"No" Cordelia muttered firmly, remembering the sky. She dragged another long breath into her lungs and swung the door open. 

Wesley looked up pleasantly from his chair, a leather bound book in his hands. "Cordelia, nice to see you back…" He paused and frowned, "Are you all right, you look…"

"Is that her?" Angel's voice shouted from the elevator. 

"Terrible" Wesley finished, as their employer appeared in the office. 

"Hey guys" Cordelia mustered a smile as she slung her coat across the leather couch, "Sorry I'm late. The audition ran slow."

Angel drank in the sight of his young associate, absorbing every detail of her. Her small face was drained of anything resembling color, her eyes dull. An air of fragility curved every movement, already slowed by apparent exhaustion. She looked, quite simply, wretched. A memory of Buffy, cradled in his arms after he had drunk from her, flitted through Angel's mind.

__

That's how bad Cordelia looks.

"Cordelia," Angel swallowed hard, "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Cordelia said, her smile distant. "I'm fine. Anything going on here? "

Angel looked at her uncomprehendingly. 

__

No way can she act like everything is okay. Can't she see it herself?

Her artificial smile, the flash of her white teeth promised him she couldn't. A slow fear coiled in Angel's stomach as he surveyed her wordlessly. 

__

I can't reach her anymore.

The thought reverberated through his mind, the echo growing louder until it grew into a sudden roaring wisdom. His young Seer was locked into some private misery, the distance between them stretching a little more every day. Angel studied her carefully, as though seeing her for the first time. There was a horrible, deadened air about her, a vulnerability that frightened him. 

Anger swayed through him. It wasn't as though he had simply ignored her despair. Angel had considered Cordelia his responsibility, long before she became his Seer. She was nineteen years old, alone in a strange city, with no friends to speak of. He had taken care to keep her away from the darker elements of the job, limiting her involvement to research and re-con. Cordelia had seen enough terrors in Sunnydale, the vampire had decided early on, she could stick to reading about them now and for all her complaining that she was turning into a mini-Giles, Angel hadn't for the most part, wavered on that point.

The visions of course, had changed that. They brought their own torments, from which she couldn't be protected. If anything though, they had fueled Angel's determination to guard his young friend, to keep her safe from the demons that plagued her mind, to steer her through the visions with an unfaltering support. The visions had brought Doyle his own torments, the recklessness, the drink, the gambling. Angel had long since vowed that Cordelia wouldn't need a crutch, any crutch.

Except maybe him. Looking at her now, Angel was quite sure he had failed miserably.

"No," the vampire said with deliberation consideration, "You're not fine. Something's wrong. Something has been wrong for a long time now and it's time we sorted it out."

Flinching under his steady scrutiny, Cordelia edged back in instinctive defensiveness. "Angel," she said, her smile barely held, "Chill out already. All is well with Cordy. Trust me."

Angel trailed his gaze over her. _She looks so damn lifeless_. "I don't" he said finally, determination striding across his face, "Something is happening here and you need to start talking about it."

Ire flashed in Cordelia's blackening gaze. "Need to start talking?" Her laugh was brittle, "Turning into a shrink now, Angel?" She shook her head sharply, her expression stony, "You know what Angel? It really doesn't matter what you think." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to an icy low, "I have to tell you about the visions Angel, nothing else. Don't forget that."

__

At least she's reacting. At least she's showing some damn spirit. Time to provoke some more and maybe pound some truths home while I'm at it.

The vampire regarded her impassively for a short while. He nodded thoughtfully and cleared his throat as he took a half step closer. 

"You are my Seer" Angel pushed grim resolve into every word, "That means you and I have a responsibility to each other. I intend to live up to that responsibility, whether you like it or not, so I suggest that you don't forget that."

Wesley coughed politely, "Perhaps you two should just…"

"Don't bother Wes," Cordelia said tightly as she swung past him to stalk toward the coat rack. She pulled her coat down, bristling anger fumbling every movement. 

Angel paced behind her. "Cordelia, we're not done here."

She turned on him, fury lighting her eyes. "We are so done Angel. Go find some damsel to save because I am damned if I am going to stay here and listen to you rabbit on about something you know nothing about."

Angel palmed a hand outward, "So tell me," he said calmly.

"What?"

"Tell me, fill me in. What don't I know about? Because you're not going anywhere until this is sorted out."

Cordelia stared at the vampire in momentary disbelief. Was he deliberately trying to provoke her?

__

Yes. Realization pierced her, raw anger billowing deep within. She subdued it instantly, willing control as she sealed her lips, dry and thinned. He wanted to provoke her, to drive her to hollow empty tears, to cry out her troubles, to tell of the nightmares, the dark fear and vision flashbacks, so that she would break in his arms and he could put her back together piece by piece. 

__

Not going to happen, Angel. I don't cry anymore.

__

And you might lose a piece.

"Forget it Angel" she said coolly, rage contained, "Like I said there's nothing to talk about."

"Well I think there…" 

"I already told you I don't care what you think." Cordelia shot back, "It may surprise you to learn that I am managing okay. I am learning to cope with these stupid visions, learning to how to use them for my benefit so…"

"Coat in hand, you must be finished work right Cordy?" a voice interrupted from the opening door of Angel Investigations. The three swung around to see a slim, elegantly dressed girl step inside, her small figure poised with deliberate composure. 

"Serena," Awkward surprise heightened Cordelia's tone, "Serena, hi."

"Hi" Serena raised a perfectly plucked and questioning eyebrow. "You ready?"

Cordelia masked her face with sudden warmth. " Just let me get my things." Spinning around, she slid past the vampire, quickly finding her elbow locked in a firm grasp.

"Cordelia" Angel said with a warm smile of his own, "The research on the Corrigan case remember? I'm afraid I need you here for a few hours."

Cordelia eased her elbow from his clasp. "All done," she smiled with sweet vehemence, "On your desk."

"Cordy," Serena clicked her stiletto heel against the wooden floor impatiently, "Believe it or not, the party will start without us." She smiled icily at Angel, "Besides which, I'm sure Cordelia's clocked up her working hours for today. She certainly looks like she has. Tired much Cordy?" 

Deciding he didn't like Serena one little bit, Angel transferred his cool gaze on Cordelia's friend. 

"Flexible working arrangement. I need Cordelia to stay late tonight."

"I think she can go ahead Angel" Wesley offered quietly, "I am familiar with that particular investigation, I can fill in the blank spots." The Englishman rose to his feet, picking Cordelia's bag from the sofa. He passed it to her with an affectionate wink. "Have fun."

She smiled brilliantly at him, relief flooding her face. "Wesley, you're a star." Turning, she curved her way past Angel and busied herself at her desk, "I'll just be a sec Serena."

"A real star Wes" Angel said, his eyes dark. 

"I do what I can," Wesley replied smoothly, his hand resting on the gray filing cabinet. 

Angel wasn't listening, having turned to watch his young assistant rustle in her drawer. "You need a ride home later?" he asked quietly.

Cordelia avoided eye contact with admirable skill. "No" she answered shortly, pushing her small make up compact into her velvet handbag. She pulled it over her shoulder, "I can manage."

She strode past Wesley and Angel, her head held high. "See you in the morning."

"Bright and early" Angel said evenly.

He caught the hesitancy in her step and knew his light remark had hit home. This would be sorted out. Just not tonight. 

"Night Wes," Cordelia said quietly, patting the Englishman's shoulder as she passed, "See you tomorrow."

Wesley murmured goodnight and moved to slide the door closed behind them. His hand lingered on the cold metal handle. 

Angel stuck his hands in his pockets, his fists tense. "So Wes," Sarcasm laced the vampire's voice, "You want to tell me why you helped Cordelia worm her way out of here?"

His hand slipping from the handle, Wesley turned to his employer, gravity ground in his expression. "Because," he said solemnly, "We're in more trouble than we thought."

*****************

"There was a distinctive smell from the moment she entered the office" Wesley scoured the bookshelf, finally selecting a volume of Prophecies of Foretelling. "You didn't get it?"

"No" Angel answered shortly from the kitchen table, "I was too busy having a minor seizure at the sight of her. She looked, she looked awful. Like death on legs. "

"Agreed" Wesley affirmed heartily as he sank into a chair opposite. He flipped the book open and began flicking through the pages, "She looked appalling."

"And you helped her avoid sorting whatever is going on, why?" Angel struggled to control his impatience. His entire body felt swelled with anger, with himself for letting things go on as long as they had, with Wesley for interfering and Cordelia, for her damn stubbornness. 

Wesley glanced up, light reflecting in his immaculately polished glasses. "So you didn't get a smell when she came into the office?"

Angel looked at his employee in confusion, "A smell?"

Wesley inclined his head. "Think back. A distinctive odor."

Angel closed his eyes, tilting his head back. He forced his body to calm as he recalled the recent encounter in the office above. _I was in the office, searching for my Mandolian sword, trying not to worry about the fact Cordelia was late. I heard Wesley greet her and I went out. She looked so awful, so damn exhausted, like she was about to keel over. She looked deathly under the wall lights, and that smell…_

Angel strained every sense.

His eyes snapped open. "Kanthros powder. It was burned."

Wesley nodded grimly. "That's what I thought. And this text confirms the use of the powder as an…"

"Agent to induce visions or hallucinations. Demons commonly use it to seduce their prey, project a desirable image. Its other main use is…" Angel slowed, his eyes darting to Wesley's tightening face, "among Seers. Those with the gift of visions use it to access their gift, expand it."

Wesley referred to the page beneath his whitening thumb, "In effect, it allows a Seer step into the realm of visions. For example in Cordelia's case, she would be exposed to the realm of the PTB, she could in effect, see a number of things which may or may not be meant for her. She may see things that the PTB…"

"Don't intend showing anyone." Angel finished softly. He heeled his palms against the oak table. 

"Wesley, the risks, what are the damn risks?"

"Considerable. Seers have experimented with such rituals over the centuries, the immense burden of her visions almost intolerable. But such experimentation inevitably leads to harm for the Seer. Some have fallen into a state of permanent delusions or psychosis. The mental strain is unendurable and ultimately leads to complete collapse, possibly death." 

The Englishman sighed, a deep concern for his young friend spiraling through him. "Angel" he said slowly, "Cordelia could do real damage to herself. I suspected as much upstairs but I wanted to confirm the exact nature of the powder before confronting her. I can't understand how or why she would start toying with such a substance. I wasn't aware she had any knowledge or indeed interest in such rituals."

"Someone is guiding her through it." Angel said, his mind slowly churning a truth, "Cordelia doesn't know anything about rituals. She said something upstairs. 'I am learning to cope with these stupid visions, learning how to use them for my benefit'. Someone is showing her how Wes."

"Anyone who knows about this ritual would understand the risks," Wesley leaned forward, his thoughts darkening, "If someone is leading Cordelia through these expanded visions…"

"They are doing it for their own benefit." Anger clashed with fear in the vampire's eyes. He tilted himself back and heaved onto his feet, beginning a slow pacing the length of the kitchen. 

Wesley watched him silently, his own mind ticking over. "Right," he said with an air of finality, "We know what's going on. We know what Cordelia has been hiding. We know someone, or something has been influencing her. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

Angel heeled a halt, the demon screaming for revenge. The idea that someone was guiding her into her own destruction sickened him to the barest bone. 

__

I am the Warrior.

I am responsible for her. 

Angel placated the demon with a silent promise.

I'll fix this.

I'll save her.

From herself if I damn well have to. 

The vampire turned to regard his friend. "We're going to find her and do what needs to be done. Simple as that."

Thoughts firing ahead, Angel reached for the book on the table. He flicked through the pages, ready to absorb every relevant piece of information ever written about the damn ritual.

"Angel." Wesley said evenly, "There's another complication with the ritual."

Angel glanced up from the fading page. "What is it."

The Englishman moistened his lips. "The powder isn't just harmful. It's a drug. It's addictive Angel. Which in and of itself present a whole other set of issues. Whoever is leading Cordelia through this madness is likely to be a strong influence and she is not going to be willing to walk away from him or her. The powder itself is extremely addictive. She is in effect addicted to the bliss of the expanded visions, regardless of the associated dangers. It isn't going to be easy to help her through what will essentially be cold turkey should she choose to walk away from this person." 

"She doesn't get a choice in that." Angel said curtly, "She needs help, she's going to get it."

Wesley nodded his slow agreement. "I am merely pointing out Angel, that the measures you may have to take may be rather extreme."

Angel turned his attention back to the text, a surge of determination firing in him. "So we take them. Whatever it damn well takes to get her back." 


	4. 

Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt

**Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt.**

** **

**Sorry about the delay in this installment, I have had exams so this has taken a backseat. I really appreciate all the reviews, it's always great to know a) people read these things and b) that they like it. Okay so this chapter moves things along a little, let me know what you think of plot and characterizations. Hope Angel and co are somewhat true to form. Further installments to come but for now, on you go, to hopefully enjoy this chapter of**

** **

** **

**Body Armour.**

He's not going to let this go. He'll keep pushing and pushing until he finds out about what's been going on, about Jarod.

"I cannot believe you are missing this party. It's like, the party of the month, if not the season."

Serena's irate voice sliced through her, knifing her back to reality. Blinking, Cordelia found herself staring at her apartment complex, the building darkened with night. Pulling her eyes from the cab window, she caught the expectant gaze of the driver in his rear view mirror.

"That evens out at seventeen dollars."

"Right." Slipping her bag from a tanned shoulder, Cordelia fumbled for her wallet. "Seventeen dollars. Right."

Beside her, Serena exhaled moodily. "I mean everyone wants to go Cordy. At least everyone with a functioning brain."

"Mine's not. Functioning that is." Cordelia tugged a twenty-dollar bill from a tight pocket of her wallet and creasing it, she offered the note to the driver. "It's tired and mushy and it needs sleep." She managed an apologetic smile. "I'll make it up to you Serena."

"Whatever," Serena answered with cool dismissal. Shifting slightly, she crossed her legs smoothly and fixed a dark gaze on her friend.

"If you ask me, you need to get a new job. That Angel guy works you to death and he acts like it's okay to do it. Friend or not, you need to get out of there."

_I need more than that. Much, much, more._

Cordelia clicked the door handle, a smile gripping her face. "Maybe you're right. Look, I'll call okay and you know, just have a good night."__

"Guaranteed." Serena told her aloofly, pulling a compact from her own bag, "Guaranteed."

****************

_ _

_ _

The door whined plaintively as Cordelia pushed it open, it's moan echoing through the shadowed apartment.

"Dennis. It's me."

A sudden light bathed the living room, the radio clicking to life as she slimmed out of her jacket.

"Thanks" Cordelia murmured, impatiently discarding the wine jacket. She dropped to the floor, a harried search in her bag retrieving her cell-phone. Powering it to life, Cordelia dialed the number and waited, her body twitching with nervous anticipation.

_Please be there. Please just be there._

"Hello?"

Relief embraced every tingling nerve. "Jarod."

"Cordelia? Is that you? Where are you?"

A slow safety settled deep within, the aching warmth of his voice promising sanctuary. "At home. I'm at home."

"All right" Jarod said slowly, "Are you okay?"

"It's Angel," Cordelia answered haltingly. "He and I had an argument, he said, he thinks there's something wrong, he thinks I am…"

"In trouble?" Jarod quizzed gently.

Cordelia flexed the phone wire taut and letting it go, she watch it spring back into a curl. "Yeah," she confessed. "That's his theory. Angel can be pretty persistent when he puts his mind to something Jarod. If he thinks I am in trouble, well, he won't give up, no matter what I say. He'll just keep pushing. I'm afraid he will…"

"What are you afraid of?" His voice anchored her, stemming the flowing cold fear.

She took a breath, forcing oxygen around her trembling body. "I am afraid he'll find out about you. I am afraid he will take you away. And that can't happen Jarod."

"Why not Cordelia? Why can't that happen?"

She paused, some vague sanity reminding her that Angel was her friend, Angel her anchor. That thought grounded in fact drifted meaninglessly through her mind, swallowed by a sudden desperate longing.

The visions, The seeing, Jarod.

The words tumbled from her lips, feeling locked into every one."I need you."

There was a silence, a pause and for a half breath Cordelia feared she had lost him, her confession too much.

He cleared his throat. "That's not enough."

Confusion swamped her. "Not enough? Enough for what?"

"To protect you. To protect us. Angel won't willingly allow you to leave him Cordelia."

"Leave him, I don't want to leave him, I just want him to understand…"

"He won't ever understand Cordelia. Angel will fear our friendship and he will do everything in his power to prevent it." Jarod's voice rang with self-belief. "You cannot stay with him, if we are to be friends. I can't show you what I know, if he is fighting for your mind, your loyalties. You must make a choice Cordelia. Are you Angel's Seer, are you bound to him? Or are the visions for you, your own gift?"

"I can't fight the demons I see…" Cordelia managed weakly.

"So don't see them." Jarod answered swiftly. "You see what you want to see, I've shown you how. You don't have to be cursed by images of people you can't help. So its time to make a choice Cordelia, that's where we are at. I won't become involved in a battle against Angel, I will walk away if that what you want. I'm not going to force you to do anything. Can you say the same for him? You make the choice. You can call me later, let me know what you have decided."

Thump. Thump.

In one single heartbeat, the choice was made. She couldn't, wouldn't walk away.

The visions, The seeing, Jarod.

"I can do it Jarod. I can leave. I just need to forget, you know? I need to see, that's all I need. Can you please come get me? Please?"

She could hear the smile in his voice, her heart soaring at his words.

"I'll come get you Cord. From now on, it's just me and you."

*********************

Giles often bemoaned California's constant humidity. Wesley himself found the lack of rain and temperamental weather changes rather refreshing. He quite enjoyed a day one could depend upon, at least weather wise. In his line of work there were few other certainties. Tonight, if anything proved as much. Pulling his eyes from the neon lit city speeding by, the ex Watcher cleared his throat. "Right then," he said cheerfully, addressing the silent driver, "What's the plan again?"

"We didn't make a plan Wesley." Angel gazed steadily ahead, one hand guiding the steering wheel.

"Yes, well that's really the part I am having difficulty with." Wesley blew a deep breath "You see, in a delicate situation like this, we really should have a plan. Plans are good."

Angel threw his employee a sideways glance. "Fine. How's this for a plan? We find Cordelia, we fix her. We find who ever is behind this, we fix them."

Wesley raised an ironic eyebrow. "Well, it's a plan."

"That it is."

The Englishman shifted, allowing his hand to dangle over the edge of the convertible. "It won't be an easy fix"

Angel's head snapped around, "What's that then?"

"Cordelia. She won't be an easy fix."

Angel's jaw tightened, his frame stiffening. "Any tips?"

Wesley adjusted the side mirror. "The texts all say the same. The Seer's dependency on the powder is linked to his or her exposure to it. The most comparable drug in societal terms is heroin. The Seer craves not the powder itself but the bliss of the vision. Take away that bliss and you have one very angry, vulnerable, helpless individual, experiencing appalling withdrawal symptoms."

The vampire's gaze alternated between the road and his friend. "Such as?"

"Severe migraine, vomiting, sweating, delusions, weakness, exhaustion, bouts of sudden energy. Emotionally you can expect uncontrollable rage, anxiety, upset. Like any other addict Angel."

Angel's grip on the wheel tightened imperceptibly. "How long will it last?"

"A few days, three, four at most if she does it cold turkey. However we could try weaning her from the powder, reduce her use over a week, maybe two"

"The risks?" Angel prodded, his mind mulling over every possibility.

Wesley sighed."Complete withdrawal is the safest way. There's the potential of flashbacks or prolonged visions with extended use of the powder."

Angel nodded quickly as he slowed for a red traffic light. He glanced at Wesley. "So, we take the hard route."

Wesley thought for a moment. "Not at her apartment, her neighbors…"

Preparing for the light change, Angel flicked his gaze back to the road. "I know. Look, I'll tell her I need her back at the office for some research or something. Downstairs is secure, we won't be disturbed there.

Wesley swallowed hard, an unpleasant taste settling in his mouth. What they were going to do, what they had to protect Cordelia from, she was going to hate them, "Angel…"

Angel nodded again, his eyes unfathomable. "I know Wes. I know."

*********************

Cordelia held the candle reverently. She could feel the energy, the untapped power within.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

Jarod smiled, intertwining his fingers through her own. "The strength you feel in this small candle is nothing comparable to the joy you will experience in its burning. The powder will fill every sense, open you to new sensations."

She lifted her eyes. "And visions?"

He laughed, smoothing his fingers up and down her hand. "Yes Miss Impatient. Visions."

Mirth rolled through her in waves, promised joy tantalizingly close. "Lets begin. I want to try to extend it, last as long as I …"

The loud rap of the doorknocker silenced her, ecstasy fading as her eyes darted to the doorway. "Damn it."

"Cordelia? You in there?"

Jarod tightened his grip on her hand, demanding her attention. Cordelia forced herself to calm and relaxing she relinquished the candle to him, watching him drop it into the case. Drawing herself to her feet with slow, quiet movement, Cordelia indicated to the bedroom.

"In there" she mouthed, "He'll go away."

"Cordelia, I need to speak with you." Angel's muffled voice insisted outside.

Painfully aware of the vampire's perceptiveness of life and movement, Cordelia eased her feet from her shoes and barefoot, allowed one foot to glide past the other, Jarod behind. She paused and mentally calculated the steps to her bedroom, ruminating over the route that would avoid the creakier floorboards when a sudden cold rush filled the room and lifting appalled eyes from the floor, Cordelia's gaze jumped to the doorway, her heart filling with dread.

Dennis wouldn't.

Dennis did. The front door flung open, swaying back to reveal a familiar figure. Angel paused, caught momentarily off guard. He looked around the room with a sharp nod, as though in gratitude to his dead accomplice before transferring his steady gaze to Cordelia. With almost deliberately slow movement, the vampire stepped inside, his eyes fixed firmly upon his young Seer. Behind him, an anxious looking Wesley followed.

Somewhere, from the desperate lurching of her stomach, Cordelia found her voice. "Angel, Wes."

Their names were about all she could manage.

"Cordelia" Angel greeted her evenly. "You didn't hear me at the door?"

"I knew, I knew Dennis would get it." Cordelia forced the words out, her throat tightening with grim apprehension. Angel lifted that merciless gaze from her and for a moment, she allowed herself to breathe. A bare moment for Angel stared past her, his eyes resting inscrutably on,

"Jarod." She whispered his name.

"Jarod" Angel repeated, cocking his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm Angel, a friend of Cordelia's, nice to meet you. This is Wesley."

"Likewise." Jarod moved forward, looping an arm around Cordelia's waist. She rested against him, uncertainty stiffening her limbs. "Cordelia talks about you a lot about you both."

His eyes glinting, Angel inclined forward. "I can't say the same about you, I'm afraid." His eyes drifted back to Cordelia. She was gathering some semblance of control for she had straightened, her hands flitting to her side.Somewhere in the dark corner of his mind, the demon howled but Angel dismissed it with practiced ease. Jarod could wait. Cordelia was his priority. Heeling back, his stance relaxed, Angel allowed a hint of apology to seep into his voice. "Sorry to interrupt but we need you back at the office. A case has come in and it needs the entire team."

His young Seer moistened her lips, one lip rubbing against the other in slow nervousness.

She always does that when she's nervous.

Jarod squeezed her slightly, quietly pulling her attention to him. She turned her eyes darkened with misery to him. His own gaze filled with warm understanding, an acknowledgement of her fear, an acceptance of her. And deep within his eyes, she found a message, a silent communication.

It's time.

Banishing the dread and the sudden urgent craving for the candle bundled into his small case, Cordelia nodded and turned back to the vampire.

"Angel," She forced herself to meet his eyes, resolve in her voice. "I've been meaning to talk to you. About working for you, that is. About, how I don't want to, anymore. Starting from now."

She could have sworn Dennis had deliberately silenced every tap, every creak, every noise familiar to the apartment. A ghostly silence descended upon the room, it's occupants mute as the vampire surveyed his young associate, deep thought settling on his face. Cordelia clung to the breath she was holding, afraid that if she released it, she would forget how to haul another into her burning lungs.

It's done. I've done it.

Wesley inched forward. "Cordelia" he said gently, predictable candor in his tone, "This seems like a rash decision."

She gratefully flicked her gaze to the Englishman. "It's not," she said with sudden brightness, "I mean you guys know the detective thing wasn't exactly my gig or career choice. I haven't been happy in some time and I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and you know, it's time to pursue acting, seriously commit myself to my future?"

"So what, Jarod's your agent?" Angel inquired.

Reluctantly returning her attention to the vampire, Cordelia found him as she had left him. His posture relaxed, his face calm, his tone light and easy. Anyone else might feel relaxed by his apparent nonchalance. Knowing him as she did, Cordelia was anything but relaxed. This was classic Angel. He might outwardly appear unperturbed but inside, he was churning. Thinking a thousand times faster than she ever could, pulling every piece of information he could find useful from the room, from her. Planning. Calculating. Deciding.

I know him. I know every inch of him. He can't damn well intimidate me.

"Jarod's my friend." She answered softly, controlling a sudden fire inside. "And yes he has helped me to make this decision. He supports it."

Angel nodded slowly, his hands disappearing into his coat pockets as he half circled back at Wesley. "Looks like we're just a double act now Wes." He raised a questioning eyebrow, confident that Wesley would interpret his meaning.

_We make a move?_

"It would appear so," Wesley answered with a brief nod of affirmation, knowing in his heart, this battle was a long way from won. Angel might bundle Cordelia Chase's body into the car behind but Wesley was quite certain, her spirit was far from this room.

Angel shifted his attention back to the others, longing to focus it directly on Jarod. He was human, of that Angel was sure. A supreme confidence leaked from him, shone on him. He didn't fear Angel.

Yet.

That last thought comforting him, Angel ambled to the coffee table, his hand smoothing the small metallic case perched there.

"Be careful" Cordelia took a step forward, slowing as Angel raised an interested gaze. She swallowed, "That's Jarods."

"Oh sorry" Angel backed up, somewhere in the movement sliding his hand forward, the case tumbling to the ground. It flipped open exposing a set of small candles, rosy hue against the cream carpet. "Oh damn it, I'm sorry." Angel apologized again as he leaned down to pick them up. He slotted them back into the case, propping each into an individual holder. He held the last, twirling it in his hand.

"You like candles Jarod?" Angel asked quietly, carefully replacing the last in the case. He slotted the lid down, resting the small metallic box on the coffee table once more.

Jarod shrugged. "From time to time. Candles are wonderful to use in meditative practice. They've been traditionally used in spiritual ceremonies since their very conception. I guess I'm old fashioned, stick with simple tools."

Placing his hands on his knees, Angel rose to his feet in one limber movement. "That's a good way to be." "Cordelia."

She almost jumped at the sound of her voice and pulling her eyes from the box safely encasing the precious powder, Cordelia glanced at Angel.

"Are you serious about this?"

A sudden pain darted through her as she caught a hint of something in his expression. She was hurting him. This hurt him.

_I need the powder. Get this done._

"Yes" she croaked, the word drying in her throat.

Angel nodded, a sudden wisdom carved in his face. "I don't accept that."

Cordelia hesitated. "You don't have a choice."

"Sure I do," Angel answered lightly. His eyes rested on Jarod. "We all have choices." The vampire turned and heeled back toward the door. "Come on Cordelia, we'll discuss this at the office."

Her feet rooted firmly to the ground, strength deepened within her. "Angel, you're not listening to me. I quit, I'm not going with you."

Angel stilled. "Cordelia." He spoke softly, not turning around. "The car is outside, get in it. Now."

She took a deep breath and curled a hand around Jarod's. "Wesley, get him out of here."

The Englishman looked at her, compassion digging into his gaze. "Cordelia, we merely want to talk with you. You know we have been worried about you recently and now you say you want to leave on the spur of the moment? Come down to the offices, we will talk this out."

Quiet desperation tore through her. "I will call you tomorrow Wesley, just please go now." Cordelia turned pleadingly toward him. "Get him out."

Wesley heaved a breath of regret. "Cordelia, we can't walk away from you. You know that."

"So drive." Jarod said meaningfully.

Angel turned, his face implacable. " Sorry Jarod. You don't get to have an input on this. It's business related."

"I get to have an input when my friend is upset. That bothers me." Jarod smiled lightly, half nodding to the vampire.

Angel nodded back. "You know, I think you are right Jarod. I think maybe you and I need to have a long talk about what's bothering Cordelia. In fact maybe we should do that right now."

The vampire stepped forward, dark meaning in his eyes. Cordelia instantly side-stepped, placing herself between the two men but she was too late. Angel had caught it. The slight glimmer in Jarod's gaze, the half quake backward of his left boot, the sudden hesitation. For a half breath, Angel had scared the other man witless. Angel permitted himself a half smile, relishing his success, enjoying the other man's countenance. Jarod knew it too.

"Angel," Cordelia's breathless voice focused his thoughts and looking down, he found himself looking into twin pools of misery, conflict and longing. This had to be fixed now. "Angel, stop it."

Her warm breath tickled his chin. Ignoring the sensation, Angel picked his words carefully. "Cordelia, if you won't talk to me, maybe he will. However I convince him. You can't expect me to let you walk away without a conversation. You can't leave me and Wes worrying about whatever the hell is going on here. You've found yourself a new life, I can accept that. I can't accept you walking away from the old one without a damn explanation. Which is why I insist we talk."

The tight grip on her gut loosened.

_He doesn't know anything._

_I go back._

_I talk to him, relieve his damn worries and walk away._

_I walk back to Jarod._

For Good.

_I can do this._

_I can convince Wesley._

_Hell I can convince Angel._

_I can do this._

_I'm damn actress for Christ's sake._

Her expression grew cautious. "Just talk?"

Angel half shrugged. "I'm asking, no, I am insisting on an hour of your life Cordelia. Is that so much to damn well ask?"

Cordelia bit her lip. "All right, I'll come. For an hour." She backed around to Jarod. "I won't be any longer than that, I promise." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I promise."

Raising a thumb, Jarod rubbed it across her lips. "I know you won't" His smile, filled with promise, comforted her and Cordelia turned away, joy lightening her exhausted face.

"Let's go."

The vampire held Jarod's attention for a half moment, communicating a thousand silent menaces in one single gaze. Cordelia slid past him, hovering expectantly nearby. She wasn't about to step out of hearing range, knowing Angel's habit of barely muttering threats.

_She knows me so damn well._

Satisfying himself with the thought that he and Jarod would inevitably have that long conversation he had promised, Angel backed up. Digging his hands into his pocket, the vampire retrieved his set of car keys and flung them to Wesley.

"How about you do the honours Wes?"

Wesley nodded smartly. "Nice to meet you Jarod."

The other man inclined his head slightly. "You too Wesley."

Cordelia squeezed Jarod's hand one last time. "You'll stay?"

He nodded, his voice quiet. "Like I promised."

Wesley was already striding through the open doorway, out to the car beyond. Placing a hand on Cordelia's shoulder, Angel guided her out, the girl flashing a final smile to Jarod on the way. They stepped into the night and freedom ahead.

Turning, Angel pulled the door over, a half smile directed darkly at the man left standing in the center of the room. Much as he would like to leave him with dark promises of injury and worse, Angel controlled himself. He had gotten Cordelia this far. He had managed to get her out of her, remarkably on her own two feet and he wasn't about to jepordize that for anything.

A sudden thought occurred to the vampire.

Subtle threats are the best kind

"Dennis" he said lightly as he pulled the door closed. "Be sure and look after Cordelia's houseguest while she is gone." Pulling the door closed, Angel was quite certain that Jarod was about to be treated to hospitality, Phantom Dennis style. The thought of the protective ghost's grim revenge might have been enough to cheer the vampire where it not for Cordelia and the hours, nights and days ahead.

Cold Turkey.__


	5. Chapter Five

Smoothing her tongue over her lower lip, Cordelia savored every last speck of candle dust

Disclaimer: Joss and David own all.

_Sorry about the delay in updates, I am going to tackle this over the next few days and try to finish up over the weekend. Thanks to all at fanfiction.net and Angel/Cordelia board who have reviewed so kindly, please continue as feedback, good, bad and indifferent is always welcome. But for now, onto chapter five of_

_ _

**Body Armour.**

Smoothing her tongue over lips, Cordelia quietly savored every last speck of candle dust. Jarod's apparent sign of affection in the apartment had in fact been a gift, for within the dust, between the tiny particles of candle wax were tiny molecules of the vision powder enough, she hoped to sustain her through the next hour. 

Or two or three, the girl thought miserably as she slumped back, the entire rear seat her own. Angel's claim that he just wanted to talk was she knew quite well, a guise. The vampire's true intention was an interrogation. She could just imagine the questions that would hurtle her way once they reached the office. A marathon session. 

_Why do you want to leave Cordelia? _

_Why so suddenly? What's been going on?_

_What about the visions?_

_What about us?_

_Who is Jarod?_

Cordelia shifted in her seat, that last question jarring her senses. 

Jarod. Angel would concentrate on Jarod.The vampire's entire demeanor in the apartment had screamed suspicion. That speculative probing, the slow casual evaluation deliberately designed to intimidate. He hadn't given the other man a chance. Anger flared as she considered his treatment of her friend. It was classic, predictable Angel. She had expected as much. The vampire's complete incomprehension of her friendship with Jarod was hardly a surprise, nor was his reaction. He would insist on seeing Jarod as a threat. 

She had been right not to trust him with her new abilities, with the seeing. All that wrestling with her conscience, her guilt, it had all been misplaced. Angel wouldn't understand the importance of the visions and the powder, if she had told him about them, he would have kept her away from it, away from Jarod.

She shivered at the thought of losing Jarod, a dark trembling tingling down her spine. 

Angel caught the movement, turning slightly."You cold?"

Cordelia shook her head, her eyes sullen. "No."

"Because I can give you my coat…"

"I said no."

Angel nodded casually. "All right." The vampire straightened, firing a side-glance at Wesley. The Englishman raised a knowing eyebrow. 

_Damn right, its not going to be easy._

A quiet fury filled the back seat passenger as she caught the silent exchange.

_They sit there quietly confident in their own omnipotence. I'm the loony, I can't possibly know what I am doing, walking away from a 245 year old vampire and his less than adequate sidekick, walking away from a job that puts me at daily peril, walking away from visions that leave me broken. Oh yeah, I am the loony. _

I shouldn't be here, I should be with him, the candles burning beside me, in me…

_Just get this over with. Get back there._

"I don't see why we had to come all the way back to the offices. We could have talked tomorrow," she struggled to cool the burning anger in her voice. "This is ridiculous."

Angel ran his hand the length of the seat belt stretched across his chest, considering his answer carefully.

_Keep it short. Don't make her mad. Just get her there. _

_And then the fun begins._

"Wes and I figured we should sort it out tonight Cordelia, we've been worried about you."

_"_Wes and I," Cordelia mimicked from behind. She laughed harshly. "You think maybe you two could actually give me a break? I can take care of myself and I can make my own decisions. You think because I don't involve you, it means there's something wrong?" She cast an anger bitten gaze at the passing cars, longing to be in one of them, anywhere but where she was. "You know, I survived in this city long before you came along Angel." 

Angel resisted the urge of reminding her of the roach infested apartment and Russell Winters, instead he inclined his head slightly, jaw tense, voice calm. "I know that Cordelia."

He subtly raised a hand, motioning it forward. Beside him, Wesley half nodded and eased his foot down on the accelerator. Satisfied that the Englishman would get them back as quickly as possible, Angel switched his gaze to the side mirror, where Cordelia's scowling reflection held his attention. If the teenager were to snap in an open top convertible racing through the city, she wouldn't be easily managed. Not easily managed perhaps, but managed she would be, Angel decided with a confident grimness. Cordelia could scowl and pout all she liked but she was staying put. 

If he had to clamber back there and hold her down, she was staying put. 

*****************

Cordelia stepped out, slamming the door behind her. She held a hand outright.

"Keys please."

Angel looked at her blankly as he closed his own door with a little more sensitivity to the hinges. "Excuse me?"

Cordelia sighed impatiently. "I don't have my keys. We can't open up without them."

"Right," The vampire dug a hand into his pocket and retrieved his own set. He dropped them into her palm. "Why don't you just…"

She was gone, storming ahead toward the building entrance, keys clutched in her hand.

Angel released a long and completely unnecessary breath. "Christ," he muttered as Wesley circled around the car toward him. "She's not happy."

"No" Wesley agreed, "She's not." He looked at his employer meaningfully. "This isn't even the beginning, Angel."

"I know," the vampire said softly as he watched his young Seer disappear into the building. "I know. I hate this. She's going to hate this."

Wesley shook his head. "Actually Angel, she's mostly going to hate us."

Angel nodded, his eyes fixed on the swinging doorway ahead. "I know that too. But even if she can't forgive me, it's worth it…"

"because she'll be healthy," Wesley finished for him. Clapping the vampire on the back, Wesley said determinedly. "Let's get it done."

Angel straightened, placing a restraining hand on Wesley's chest. "No" he said quietly, equal determination lining his tone, "Get downstairs and secure the place as much as you can. Don't forget the latch window in the bathroom. Then get out of here. Find out what you can about Jarod. Get Dennis to pack a bag for her, drop it by in the morning but make sure and call downstairs first and if I can, I'll come up to you."

Wesley stared at his employer in disbelief. "Angel, you can't be serious. You cannot do this alone."

Angel lifted his head, his eyes unusually gentle. "I have to Wes. Its bad enough that one of us see her this way, it's not fair on her that both of us…" His voice trailed off, his thoughts distant. The vampire shook himself, suddenly purposeful. "Besides" he said, a trace of humor in his tone, "I'll be bad cop, you drop by with clothes and food and you'll be good cop, right?"

Wesley managed a weak smile as he nudged his glasses steady. "You'll call me? For anything at all?"

Angel heaved himself from the car and nodded toward the other man. "I won't need anything." His eyes drifted toward the office windows, resolve replacing dread. "Except time."

Wesley watched the vampire move away, each pace steady. This was perhaps, the Englishman mused, Angel at his best. The vampire was fuelled by determination, a belief in his mission shaping every action, his single mindedness his best ally. Angel would, Wesley knew, bury his affection for Cordelia, ignore her pleading, her rages, her tears, remaining steadfast before her. He would drag her back to them with a tenacity and ferocity of self-conviction that Wesley Wyndham Price could not hope to possess.

Surmising that Cordelia quite simply didn't have a chance, Wesley followed his employer slowly, comforting himself with the hope that perhaps at the end of it all, she would thank them.

********************

The vampire lingered, allowing Wesley time to secure the apartment downstairs. The Englishman finally emerged a bag filled, presumably with medieval weapons in hand. Nodding at Angel, Wesley disappeared, his own job at least for the night, done. Angel paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, preparing for the night ahead. He pulled the door open finding as expected, an exasperated Seer. 

"Finally" she rose to her feet, her expression sour, "It's bad enough that you interrupt my plans for the evening but it takes you twenty minutes to walk from the car? Some of us actually have a life Angel and we tend to live it in the evenings so could you please hurry this up?"

"Sorry about that," Angel said lightly, plucking the keys from her desk. He turned to lock the door. "Wesley decided to do some follow up on the case that came in earlier so we got caught up discussing it. Lets get downstairs, its chilly up here."

"You don't get cold. Dead remember?" Cordelia snapped as he strolled past her. "And what do you mean Wesley decided to do some follow up? Wesley was the one who practically begged me to come over."

"He'll drop by later," Angel swung the elevator door across, pausing to eye the young girl. "I need to check something in the library for him. It won't take long."

Cordelia hesitated for a half breath. Something wasn't quite right. Angel seemed so damn reasonable, relaxed. Wesley had been so insistent, this all felt staged. She regarded her employer carefully, gauging him. 

_What kind of game is this? What, he thinks I'll stay because he plays at being Mr. Nice for a night?_

_No chance Angel._

She stalked past him into the elevator, her head high, eyes cold. 

Angel stepped beside her, relaxed. 

_You've got her._

"Fine," she said shortly, her arms crossed. "You do your stupid research, we have our little chat and then I'm out of here."

Angel stepped beside her, silent as he crunched the door across. The elevator whirred downward, it's clanking the only sound and as it rested with a slight thump on the ground floor, Cordelia moved forward to slide the door open, Angel a pace behind. 

"Let me just check that information for Wesley first."

Cordelia was walking through to the kitchen. "One hour Angel. I don't care how you use it."

"There's soup in the microwave, it just needs reheating." Angel called after her, inwardly hoping for a favorable response. She was going to need her strength through all this. She needed to eat. 

"I already ate" Cordelia lied as she sat down. She glanced around, her gaze automatically settling on a simple etching hanging on the wall opposite. It was framed, having being hung there after careful deliberation and as she looked on it now, Cordelia's eyes burned with an old sorrow, one she hadn't felt in quite some time. And yet it stung just as hard and deep as it had before. 

Oh God, Doyle. 

She sat frozen, her gaze glued to the penciled drawing, a hand rising to wipe the tears. 

"He'd be pretty upset to see you leave us."Angel's voice was low but gentle. 

Cordelia smoothed the damp from her cheek, her hand soft. "Doyle would understand," she said quietly, knowing it to be true. Doyle, above everyone, would understand. He had suffered just as she did, every aching torment of the vision, his own.Just as he would understand the ecstasy, the bliss, the freedom of the powder enhanced visions.

"Doyle would get it," she murmured again, finally lifting her gaze from the drawing. 

Angel moved forward to lean against the fridge, his arms crossed. "Think so? Seemed to me like he was pretty committed to this place, to what we do."

"Maybe he thought he had no other choice," Cordelia straightened, efficient now, "Maybe he thought that this was all there was."

"And you've found more?" Angel asked softly, his eyes dragging over her tiny frame, her thin drawn face, her eyes charred with misery, worn with weariness. 

Cordelia regarded him silently, lips pursed. It wasn't his fault, she realized with sudden clarity, she shouldn't expect him to understand the pain of the visions or the bliss of the powder. He was, in his own blundering way, trying to help her. Cordelia softened, as she looked at him, so earnest there, so very sure that he could help, she couldn't be angry with him for not understanding. She couldn't blame him. 

"Yes," she said softly, a small smile on her lips, "I have found more. I can't explain it to you Angel, at least not so you'd understand. But I have found more, more than I ever thought I could and it's time for me to move on."

"With Jarod." There was a familiar edge in his voice. 

Cordelia inclined her head gracefully, her eyes held by his own. "Yes, with Jarod."

Angel nodded, his lips twisting into a grimace. "See Cordelia, that's where we have a problem. If you told me you wanted to leave to pursue your acting career or some other ambition, I'd be upset but I'd let you go. But if this is your plan, to leave with Jarod, I can't let you go. I just can't."

Cordelia shook her head in mild disgust, rising to her feet, pushing her chair aside. "I was crazy to think you could discuss this maturely. I am going to go, tell Wes that I…"

"I can't let you do that Cordelia."

Cordelia lifted her head to glare at him. "Excuse me?"

Angel shifted against the fridge, the movement propelling him forward. "You can't leave Cordelia. Not any time soon. You see we know."

She froze, unable to breath. "What is it you think you know?" she finally managed. 

Angel took a step closer, his voice steady, "We know what you've been hiding. The visions, the powder, this Jarod guy. You don't know what you've been playing with Cordelia, that powder makes you ill, really sick. I can't let you leave until I know you're well, till I know you're safe." He edged closer, conscious of her trembling. "You have to trust me on this one Cordelia, can you do that?"

Seeing the sincerity, the meaning and determination in his eyes, Cordelia Chase managed to form one thought.

_ _

_Run_.


	6. Chapter Six

Run

Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and David.

This fic is working out to be twice as long as I originally envisaged it to be and there is still a bit to go. Please continue to review and let me know what you think. What can I say, I'm shallow and feedback encourages me to write faster!!!Now onto chapter six of 

Body Armour.

Run.

The thought became a command, her body whipping around in compliance. The elevator seemed an age away and focusing her eyes upon its sturdy metal door, Cordelia moved toward it, her pace clumsy. She was half way there, her fingers jerking to tug the door sideways when she felt his inevitable touch restraining her. Angel's hand clamped around her upper arm, gentle but insistent, pulling her around.

"Cordelia…" 

She flung herself backward, hoping to loosen his clasp. "Let me go Angel."

Grip steadfast, Angel shifted closer, his voice even. "Cordelia, just calm down and listen to me."

Cordelia stilled, her breaths shallow. "You're hurting me. Let go."

"I will," Angel said gently "Just let me finish. I know you're scared right now, I know that…"

"I'm not scared," Cordelia interrupted angrily, her hazel eyes flashed "I'm not even surprised. It's just like you to snoop around, decide you knowing what's going on and make a better than thou, I know what's good for you judgment. You don't know anything about me or Jarod."

"I know about the dangers of Kanthros powder." The vampire leaned his head downward, "Do you? Did Jarod explain the risks before he started his hokey pokey on you?" 

She twisted in his grasp, her eyes filling with frustrated tears. "I don't need to hear this crap."

Wrapping his other hand around her free arm, Angel pulled her closer. "Yes you do," he said grimly, "You need to hear this. The powder is addictive, Cordelia, you're an addict. Your new best friend didn't tell you that, did he?"

"God, could you just listen to yourself?" Cordelia managed a bitter laugh, her lips trembling, "I make a new life for myself, without you and that makes me an addict?"

Angel inclined his head forward. "No, the powder makes you an addict. Withdrawal makes you clean."

Everything stopped. Breathing, every nerve and fiber stilled as a slow knowledge crept into her senses. 

_He was serious. He was going to do this._

"You can't, you, " she stumbled, the words sticking in her throat. "You can't do this."

Angel smiled, a tinge of sadness gathering in his gaze. "I have to do this Cordelia." 

She shook her head in desperation. "Let me go." His silence fuelling a sudden rage, she pushed against him, her voice elevating to a scream. "Let me the hell go."

Stepping back, Angel uncurled his fingers, releasing her arms. She backed away slowly, staring at him blankly, suspicious confusion creeping onto her face. Cordelia cast a panicked wild-eyed glance around the apartment, all the while edging backward, her eyes eventually drifting back to the silent vampire. 

She paused, struggling to contain the medley of feelings swirling through her, conscious of a rising aching yearning. 

_I need to get out of here. Now._

"I've heard what you have had to say Angel." Cordelia's voice shook, "And I am leaving. Don't try to stop me and don't try to contact me again. I don't want to have anything to do with you. Our friendship is finished."

He stood perfectly still, his expression calm, eyes unreadable. 

Cordelia smoothed her hands over her hips anxiously, unsure of what to do. Finally pulling her eyes from that impassive face, she turned away and walked briskly through the apartment. Dipping her head, she ascended the winding back stairs, each shadowed step taken with increased confidence. 

Nearly there.

Reaching the top of the unlit staircase, Cordelia lowered her hand to the door bolt. She smoothed her fingers over the rough rust of the metal and tugged it sideways. It didn't budge. Sliding her other hand beneath to try again, her hand brushed against a new smoother metal. Frowning, Cordelia reached for the added appendage and palming her hand upward, she found herself holding a padlock. 

A brand new shiny padlock. 

A small cry of frustration pushed past her lips. Dropping the padlock, she watched the shiny weight disappear into its dark corner. Cordelia spun around and hurtled down the stone steps, pacing her way back through the apartment. Angel stood exactly where she had left him, his arms now crossed, his head bowed. Storming past him, Cordelia raced up the main staircase, pausing half way.

Another padlock. 

Cordelia stared at it, knowing that rage alone wouldn't weaken it. She turned slowly, her slim shoulders stiff. She flickered a gaze to the elevator, unsurprised to find it's door now guarded by a similar lock. She descended the stair, the steps creaking beneath her. Cordelia paused beside the vampire. 

"Angel," she said in a low voice, that dark burning sparking within. "Give me the keys."

He shifted sideways, lifting his head. "I can't do that Cordelia."

This isn't happening. This ISN'T happening.

The sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears. "Angel, stop it. Give me the damn keys."

Angel straightened and moved away, leaning against the weapons cabinet. "Cordelia, we've been through this part. Why don't you just relax, watch some television or something and we can talk when you have thought this…"

"I want OUT OF HERE. NOW!" Her voice pitched to scream, every aching fiber on fire. 

Angel looked at her, allowing her scream to fade into silence. He glided his hand over the smooth wood of the cabinet, his eyes fixed on the young girl. 

"That's not going to happen Cordelia."

"No," she said desperately, "This isn't happening." She pulled her hair back, taut as she forced herself to focus. To think. Somewhere in the hot burning muddle that was her mind, she remembered.

Phone.

********************************

She was gone running toward the kitchen and Angel guessed as he lifted himself from the sturdy wooden cabinet, toward the phone. He followed her, reaching the kitchen as she fumbled with the receiver, her fingers punching in the numbers. Winding an arm around her tiny waist, the vampire scooped her away from the telephone, knocking the set to the floor. He could unplug it later. Right now, he had to contend with the bundle struggling in his arms. Looping his free arm around her, Angel pulled Cordelia against him.

"Stop it" he warned as she kicked against him. "You calm down or I'll put you under a cold shower until you do."

His threat evidently held some sway for Cordelia steadied herself, relaxing in his grasp. 

"I'm sorry," she said a few moments later. "I'm sorry Angel, please just let me go."

"Cordelia, you have to…"

"Look its not like I can go anywhere is it? You've pretty much seen to that so let me go, and we can talk all right?"

Angel relinquished his hold, fully prepared for another flight. Not that she could get very far, he mused as he stepped away, the only other telephone was his cell-phone, protected by its own key-lock. Cordelia was to all intent and purposes, trapped.

She moved a little away, dusting down her trousers, lifting her arms to hug herself, the very picture of vulnerability. She pulled a chair out and sat down, her eyes glued to the floor.

"Angel, I know you are worried about me but this, this is crazy. You can't just kidnap me like this. You can't just take control of my life this way." She raised her gaze, hurt and confused, to meet his own. "Don't you think you might be wrong? Don't you think I would know if what you say is true? Don't you think I would know if I was an addict?"

Looking at her, her face earnest and honest, Angel felt as though he was seeing his old friend and the tiniest flicker of doubt sparked in his mind. 

_What if she's right? _

_What if the powder isn't addictive in all cases?_

_What if Wes and I are wrong? _

_ _

_What if I have just kidnapped my best friend for no reason at all?_

That small spark of uncertainty was quickly extinguished as memories of the recent deceit and lies flooded his mind. Sighing, Angel turned and grabbed the Chronicles of Belejere from the kitchen counter. He flicked through it and finding the relevant passage, leaned across the table, swinging the book toward his young seer. 

"Read that," he said quietly. "Read that and tell me I am wrong."

She did, a scowl settling on her face as her eyes raced through the medieval script. "So some old scroll tells you it's true and you believe it? You listen to some powdered wig dead guy before me?"

"Kanthros powder is addictive Cordelia. That's a fact, I believe in facts. If you're so convinced you don't need the powder, staying here for a few days shouldn't be a problem."

Cordelia's grip on the page tightened. "Few days?"

"Four at the most" Angel said lightly.

"Four days?" Cordelia laughed, the sound brittle. "Angel, you know how crazy you sound?"

"If you don't have an addiction, you shouldn't have a problem"

"With someone kidnapping me and trying to control my life?" Anger flashed across her face, distorting her features. Bowing her head, Cordelia took a deep breath, evidently assessing her options. When she looked back at him, her expression was one of tight calm. 

"So what, you're saying if I try to leave, you'll physically stop me, is that it?"

Angel nodded. "Pretty much."

She smiled grimly. "Fine. Then I really don't have a choice but to stay, do I? Whatever, you want to see that I'm not an addict, that's what you'll see. But I hope its worth it Angel, because the cost is our friendship." Cordelia flung the Chronicles across the table, watching the book slide off to slap against the fridge with a resounding thud. 

She rose to her feet, anger brimming. "I'll stay here Angel. But don't expect me to talk to you or want to have anything to do with you now or ever. Save your shrink talking for someone else. From what Faith said, you pretty much suck at that too."

Spinning on her heel, she walked away, leaving Angel in the quiet of the kitchen. 

Wondering just how the hell this was going to work out. "So she agreed to stay?"

"I wouldn't say that." Angel said in a low undertone, as he tugged the cell-phone closer to his ear.

"Well, what would you say?" Impatience lined Wesley's voice.

"I think it was more a case of her accepting she didn't have any other choice. She's in there watching television now."

"Have you tried talking with her?"

"Wes, I'm lucky if she looks at me. It's been seven hours and so far all I've learned is that our friendship is over, I am a terrible shrink, a waste of dead space and she never once enjoyed my cooking. You getting the picture here?"

The Englishman sighed. "Completely. And she hasn't shown any effects of withdrawal yet?"

"She looks awful Wesley. She's edgy and fidgety. She can't damn well relax." Angel scratched his head wearily. "It's only starting, you know."

"I suppose so." Wesley considered slowly, "You know I am here if you need me, Angel, don't hesitate to, "

"I know that Wesley," Angel interrupted quietly, "And I am grateful for it. I don't know how I would manage by myself."

"You'd do just fine," the Englishman answered with certainty. 

"Not so sure about that." Angel hoisted himself to his feet, smoothing the rumpled bedcovers,"I am going to go, try and get her to eat something."

"Good luck," Wesley said dryly. "And take care"

"Will do."

Inspecting the buttons, Angel powered the cell-phone down. 

"Right then Ms Chase," the vampire murmured as he tucked the phone under his pillow, "Let's see how you're doing."

*********************

"Are you all right?"

Cordelia stared at the television screen, seemingly absorbed by the documentary on medieval monarchies in Italy. She had managed for the most part, to ignore him for the past five hours, instead occupying herself with the muddled turmoil of her mind. She had assessed the situation from every possible angle, with as much objectivity as she could muster and found herself reaching the same conclusions.

_She had to get out._

That conclusion reached, Cordelia forced herself to answer the difficult questions. Could Angel be right? Was the powder addictive? Was the awful trembling fire in her stomach burning into a desire for powder, for a vision?

The barest memory of a vision eased the burning, relieved the fire. And with that, Cordelia had found a simple truth.

_I don't care. I don't care if he is right. I need the bliss._

"Cordelia, are you listening? How are you doing?"

_I can't get out of here, ignoring him. I can't get anywhere, ignoring him. Let him think we are back on track._

She turned her head slowly, her hair smoothed against the soft leather chair. "Not so good."

The vampire paused, caught by her unexpected reply. He nodded cautiously. "I guess so. You want to talk about it?"

"What's to talk about?" Cordelia turned her eyes back to the flickering screen, her face illuminated by it's light. "I could do with a sandwich though."

"Sandwich, right." Angel agreed enthusiastically. He held out his hands, weighing up the possibilities. "You want salad, meat or fish?"

"Salad" Cordelia replied. "Cheese salad."

"Consider it made" Angel said, his grin unchecked. Cordelia eating was always good, she was far too weight conscious. Cordelia eating right now was great.

After all, she was going to need her strength.

**********************

The sandwich looked enormous. Salad sandwiches, Cordelia thought with well-contained disgust, were supposed to be thin and compact. Not overflowing with every vegetable imaginable. Her stomach revolted at the bare idea of a bite. Or was that her head. She felt so damn fuzzy, she wasn't quite so sure. 

Fuzzy. The clouds had been fuzzy in her vision. They had all intermingled into one giant hazy cloud.

Her mouth was so damn dry.

"Thank you" Cordelia tugged the plate onto her lap, her fingers clutching the crusty bread roll. 

She was going to be sick. 

Aware of his expectant presence, she lifted the sandwich to her lips, forcing herself to take a bite. 

Chew. Chew till it's nothing at all. Till you barely have to swallow.

"It's all right?" Angel queried beside her.

Fighting the urge to gag, she swallowed, her eyes fixed firmly on the television set. "Yeah" she managed, barely hearing her words over the pounding pain in her head. "Is there any juice?"

He was gone, muttering promises of a variety of fruit juices. Steadying the plate on the side of the chair, Cordelia rose to her feet quietly, her eyes scouring the room. 

Every weapon, every goddamn ancient sword and stake gone. Weapon cabinet firmly secured. 

Somewhere in between the roaring muddle of her mind and the sudden shakiness of her body, Cordelia remembered the cleaning box. There was always some battle-muddied weapon flung in there, left for later attention. She swirled, creeping beneath the mahogany table, her trembling fingers lifting the lid, revealing a small knife, layered with a green film. Cordelia eased it from under a half broken crossbow, the marble handle cold in her hot hand. 

"Cordelia."

She was on her feet, moving faster than she had thought possible. 

Angel stood, a glass of orange juice in his hand, an expression of muted disappointment on his face. Stretching a hand sideways, his eyes never leaving her face, Angel placed the glass beside her plate. 

"What are you planning to do with that?"

His voice was filled with calm, almost soothing the boiling within her. The vampire stood, his stance relaxed, characteristic self-assurance in his voice. 

"Cordelia?"

He stepped closer.

She flung the knife outward, her eyes desperately searching the apartment. "Don't. Just don't."

Half way through a slow step, Angel paused, his lips twisting into a knowing grimace as he heeled back. He chose his words carefully.

Go gentle.

"All right. You want to let me in on your plan?"

"Just stay there. No, get me the keys or the phone. Get me one of them. No, get me both."

Her mouth was on fire, her eyes stinging and she begged for tears to quench the heat. 

"Cordelia." A hint of worry embraced his tone. "Be careful with that thing, all right? Just drop it, you know you can't hurt me with it."

She looked at him, eyes gleaming with cold. "I can hurt myself. I can dig it right into my stomach and then you'll have to let me out. You won't leave me here to bleed all over your nice floor, would you Angel? Stains wouldn't come out. You'd have a hard time explaining that to…"

She blinked and he was there, knocking the knife with one smooth tug of her wrist. He kicked it across the floor and she careered past him, her hand stretching for it. Angel reached down and pulled her shrieking form back into a tight hold. 

So much for the gentle approach, he reflected as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. The young seer was wild with rage, bucking against him for freedom. "Cordelia…" The vampire ducked as an arm freed itself and swung back aggressively. He re-captured it and tried again. 

"Shush, its okay Cordelia, just relax, please just calm down."

Barrages of expletives were his only response. Releasing an unnecessary breath, Angel eased himself back against the wall, gripping her firmly against him and knowing she would tire herself out, the vampire let her fight it out.

Cordelia did just that. She fought him, cursed him and struggled against him with all of her might, sudden bouts of energy and rage fuelling her. Holding her easily, Angel remained silent, ignoring every yell and threat, grateful he didn't have neighbors.

"You can't do this to me. You cannot do this."

"You haven't a fucking clue about anything, you know that? Not a fucking clue."

"You bastard, I am going to stake you, you hear me?"

"Why wouldn't I want to leave? You fucking killed Doyle didn't you?"

Cordelia wore herself out and quietened, still wriggling in his grasp. She strained against his arms, her small frame curving away from the vampire. Worried that she might hurt herself, Angel shifted so that she fell back against him. To his surprise, Cordelia didn't resist, instead resting against his chest, her eyes damp. They stayed like that, close together, one strong, the other unbearably weak, the chatter of a talk show, the only sound. 

She finally spoke, her small voice filled with misery. "Why are you doing this?"

Angel squeezed her gently, his chin resting on her head. "Because you need me."

She sniffled, releasing a long weary breath. "You don't know what I need. You have no idea."

"I know that" Angel acknowledged truthfully. "I know I can't possibly understand what this powder is like. I know that Cordelia. But I know you need help and I am going to give it to you, whether you like it or not. Its not going to be easy and I am guessing we'll have a few more bouts before we get there but we will Cordelia. I promise it will get better."

"Angel, I need to go" Cordelia whimpered, her head suddenly light. "Please don't make me stay, please just help me. Let me go."

"I can't do that, I…"

She weakened in his arms, her faltering sudden. 

"Angel," she murmured, her voice almost incoherent, "I don't feel so good."

"All right, its okay." Angel unwrapped an arm and gently lowered her to the ground. Her head flew forward, almost slapping against the ground. Angel palmed her hot forehead back, sweeping her hair back from her moist face. 

"I'm here Cordelia. I'm here."

The young girl leaned forward, retching. "Angel, I …" She vomited violently, her stomach flipping every content forward, her throat aching with the effort.

"Oh God," she cried intermittedly, hot tears rolling down her face, her body limp, "Oh please God."

Angel placed a cool hand on her back, rubbing her gently, images of every way he would like to torture Jarod racing through his maddened mind.

"It's all right Cordelia," he soothed, a helpless hand on her back, "I'm here."

Stroking long strands of hair from her flushed face, whispering low comforts, Angel tended to his young Seer as best he could. He had managed to carry her to the bathroom where the bout of vomiting continued for almost twenty minutes, the constant retching exhausting her.

She lay against him now, spent, her body limp with lethargy.

He slipped an arm from behind her. "Cordelia, I'll be back in a minute all right? Just rest there."

She didn't respond, didn't acknowledge him but simply sat there, her hazel eyes hollowed by exhaustion. 

"One minute." Angel affirmed needlessly as he left her, reluctance in his step. 

*************************

Cordelia groaned as another wave of nausea swept through her. The young seer bent forward, long dark hair circling her face. Cordelia clutched her waist as cramps tightened her lurching stomach, a low moan escaping her and she closed her eyes, willing some semblance of equilibrium to settle in her body.

And then he was back, crouching beside her. 

"Cordelia, take a sip."

She opened her eyes, a glass of water greeting her. Her stomach flipped.

"I can't," she croaked, wrinkling her nose in revulsion. "Angel please just…"

He tilted her chin up, guiding the glass to her lips. "Just one sip."

Incapable of fighting him on this one, Cordelia's lips parted obediently, cool water gushing into her mouth. She swallowed, wetting her parched, grating throat. 

"Good girl," Angel said quietly, lowering the glass to the tiled floor. He studied the young girl before him in silence, his eyes drinking in the terrifying sight that was Cordelia Chase. "How are you doing Cordy?" he asked quietly.

The question tickled her and she smiled, her head lolling back, immediately steadied by his hand. 

"Just great," she slurred, her world fading to black. "Just great."

"Cordelia, Cordelia, look at me." 

"Cordelia."

Two hands grabbed her shoulders, shaking her violently.

"Cordelia Chase, you look at me right now."

Her head snapped up, eyes blazing. "Stop that. Leave me the hell alone."

Angel took a long and completely unnecessary breath. "Well, quit going to sleep on me."

Cordelia felt her brief energy drain away. "I feel tired."

The vampire nodded in understanding as he reached behind him, producing a dark colored garment. One of his t-shirts. "I know. Let's get you cleaned up and you can go lie down all right?"

She shook her head weakly, the barest idea of moving far too awful to contemplate. "Angel, please just leave me be, you don't understand, I feel like I…"

Angel paused, the t-shirt half straightened in his hands. "Like what?"

She focused on him, her eyes boiling with a parching aridity. "Like I'm on fire. Every single bit of me."

Cordelia could have told him about her pounding head, her pain twisted stomach, her tingling arms or the fact that she could feel every fiber in her body ache. She could have told him, had she been able to distinguish one agony from the other. As it was, they all melded into one utter misery.

Not that it mattered. Angel knew of all the symptoms and more to come, courtesy of Wesley.

"I know Cordelia," he said softly, moving closer. "I'm going to help you feel better."

"The powder," she murmured, her teeth clenched as another cramp dug into the pit of her stomach. "Angel, please, the powder."

He was lifting her top, ignoring her whimpered protests, Cordelia's hot skin tilting back against the blessedly cool tiles. And then he was moving her forward, guiding her into his t-shirt, a familiar smell of Angelness enveloping her. He lifted her effortlessly, leaning her against him, tugging her trousers from her waist, slipping the t-shirt over her hips. 

"Angel" His name stumbled from her mouth. "Please just call Jarod for me, please I just need…"

Angel held her tightly, looping an arm around her to support her weakened frame, ignoring her quiet pleading. He had been dreading this part, fearful that his ability to care for her would fail him. Angel knew his strengths. He was good at brooding. He was really good at fighting demons and ogres. He was quite confident he would be a terrible carer and yet it felt entirely natural, almost instinctive to take care of Cordelia. Seeing her this way quite simply, hurt him. The vampire felt a hundred other emotions, anger and fear, protectiveness and misery, but at the root of it all, lay a deep and abiding hurt. 

Cordelia was almost broken. 

So this part wasn't that bad, after all. He could fix this, help her. He hadn't been wrong. 

She had needed him.

Planting a sudden kiss on her damp, sweat lined head, Angel lowered her back to the floor and turning, he reached for the shower cord. 

**********************

The sound of splattering water roused her a little, a dim horror breaking through. "Oh God, Angel no please, just leave me." 

Head spinning, Cordelia rose unsteadily. She tottered toward the open doorway, strong arms pulling her back. The seer hunched up in his grasp, raising her arms, wriggling away.

"Come on Cordelia," the vampire said firmly, lifting her from her feet. He turned toward the shower. 

She buried herself in his arms. "You don't understand it burns, it burns so bad."

"It will make you feel better pet, I promise," Angel soothed, pulling back the shower curtain. The vampire stepped inside, carrying her over the edge of the bath, lowering her to her feet. She clung to him, her small hands fisting against his chest.

"Angel, please don't make me do this. I'll do anything you want, just please."

Forcing himself to remember the reasons he was doing just this, Angel stepped forward, forcing her back under the water. She screamed as the water hit her skin, the pain-filled sound ripping through him, tearing him into little pieces. He held her close, her drenched t-shirt soaking him. 

"Shush Cordelia, it will get better, I promise. Just hang on in there."

Cordelia sobbed relentlessly, the agonizingly cold water assaulting her burning, boiling skin. The pain overwhelmed her, rocketing turmoil through every sense. She turned inward sinking into despair, closing off every feeling. The pain, as Angel had promised, subsided, her skin chilled to a bearable heat, the water a welcome relief. She stood there, a dripping sopping mess, fingers wrapped in Angel's shirt.

Cordelia Chase had hit rock bottom.


	7. Chapter Seven

Hey guys, here the next chapter of what is turning out to be an annoyingly long fic

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed since the first chapter. Joss and David still own all.

Thanks to all who have been so kind with their reviews, especially Polly, your reviews are always lovely to read. I hope everyone keeps enjoying this. Only one or two chapters left to go after this update of :

Body Armour

Cordelia sat on the edge of the bed, silently quivering, her small frame rattling with every breath. She hadn't uttered a single word since Angel had carried her from the bathroom. Not a syllable when he gently smoothed droplets of water from her pink skin, nor a murmur when he eased her into warmed, dry clothes. 

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and hushed. "I can't do this Angel."

The vampire paused and then resumed untangling her hair with smooth sweeps of her silver hairbrush. "Yes you can," he promised quietly, "You can do this."

Cordelia shook her head sorrowfully, turning to him slowly. Her face shimmered with desperation, eyes filled with tumultuous disquiet. "No Angel, I can't." She took a long shaky breath, her lips twitching nervously. 

"You're right." The confession hurt, carving her apart. "I know you're right about the powder. I have a need. I feel a need." Cordelia faltered, confusion engraved on her face. She lifted her eyes, a strange knowledge filling her hazel gaze. "I know you're right but what you are asking me to do? I can't Angel. I'm not like you. I've never been like you. I haven't ever beaten anything in my life. I can't beat this."

Angel shook his head. "You're wrong. You can beat this Cordelia," he smiled, suddenly, briefly. "You've accepted you have a problem. That's the first step out of the tunnel." 

Cordelia laughed, the sound harsh, hard. "Tunnel? There's no tunnel Angel. This, what Jarod showed me, this is my life. This is the meaning in my life. I don't want to walk away from it Angel. I can't walk away from it."

"You have to."

"I won't." Cordelia said calmly. She reached back, flinging her damp hair behind her shoulders. "I know the risks Angel. I understand the dangers. Don't you see? If anything, you've convinced me that my choices, my decisions were right. Jarod should have told me about the side effects. He should have warned me of the potential consequences."She paused, moistening her lips.

"But knowing all this, I would still choose him."

Angel stared at her, a horrible comprehension dawning upon him. This was the Cordelia he knew, her steely determination, grim resolve apparent in every word, every pale feature. She meant each word. 

She can't think straight. The drug, the illness, she couldn't think rationally. And yet, the vampire knew. This was the depth to which he had allowed her to fall, these were the burdens the powder had lifted. It wasn't Jarod alone who had guided Cordelia away from her friends, from the only family she really had. He had done this. He had left her drifting, hurtling through nothingness, coping with the visions and Doyle and the nightmares that appeared in their office every other week.

"I know you mean it." Angel said finally, his voice pained. "I know you do but I am going to get you back. I'm going to get you back to where you'll change your mind. To where you'll choose me."

Cordelia smiled softly, his ignorance almost amusing her. "It doesn't work that way Angel. I can't go back to her. I've seen too much. I've felt too much. And I've found the escape."

"An escape that could kill you." Angel interjected angrily.

"Without it." Cordelia returned quietly. "There is no living. Not for me." 

Angel shook his head again, promise in the movement. "I won't let you go."

That small smile again. "In the end, you'll have to."

*************************

Cordelia grew quiet, accepting the impasse between them. With a final silent glance, she curled back onto the bed, closing her eyes. Her limp body shivered, heaving shudders wracking her bones. Unearthing blankets from the closet, Angel smothered her with warmth, somehow hoping to alleviate the icy cold gripping his young seer. Cordelia thanked him, her voice small and tired. Sleep slowly overtook her, restlessness haunting her in slumber, low whimpers a testament to her disquiet. 

The vampire stood guard, watching over her. 

*****************************

"Angel you can't give up."

"I have no intention of giving up Wesley" Angel said impatiently, opening the bag of blood with one fumbling hand. "I am just saying that she seemed pretty damn sincere. I don't know if I can get her back this way."

"What do you suggest then? Turn her back to Jarod and hope she reaches enlightenment by herself because…"

"Lose the Giles tone Wes. I know what you're saying all right? Have you found anything else?"

"Well," Wesley cleared his throat, always a sign he had news to tell, "I have managed to investigate our friend Jarod."

Angel squeezed the bag tightly. "And?"

"And he has been in L.A. for the past two years. He has worked as a spiritualist in a healing center outside the city."

"A spiritualist."

"Apparently quite a good one. Donations to the center increased dramatically after his arrival. But there's more. Jarod spent three years in Tibet studying an ancient religion Pacar."

The vampire's brow creased. "Pacar? That doesn't sound familiar."

"No reason why it should. The last Pacar tribe died out over eight hundred years ago. The tribe was composed of seers dedicated to learning more about their gift. For centuries, they used their visions to aid their people, to guide the communities in judgment. From the ancient writings, it appears that some of the seers clamored for a greater use of their powers. They rebelled against the chieftain's teachings and began to expand their visions. Their subsequent experimentation led to insanity among the chief rebels and a massacre ensued, killing the entire tribe."

Angel digested this new piece of information. "And Jarod studied these people."

"He did" Wesley confirmed grimly. "It would appear he was an avid student, teasing out the seers various experiments."

"The powder" Angel said, almost to himself. 

"That's not all" Wesley continued, his voice serious, "The ultimate aim of the rebels was clear. They wanted to achieve Kancelev."

"Kancelev?"

"It roughly translates as 'carrier of power'. The rebels believed that by accessing the expanded visions, a seer could ultimately control the events they saw. Change them. Instead of being messengers for the Powers that Be…"

"They become the Powers that Be." Angel finished softly.

"In essence. Jarod was trying to become a PTB, control the future, and shape the events around him. He could only have a small window of opportunity in which he could have done so, inevitably the powder would have destroyed Cordelia."

"As well that bastard knew." Angel glanced down at his damp hand, blood splattered drying between his fingers. 

_I wish that damn bag were Jarod. This blood, his blood._

The vampire reveled in a sudden cold urge to kill, old habits rising to the fore. He subdued the darkest thoughts and returned his attention to Wesley.

"He won't give up you know Angel," the Englishman was advising. "Cordelia is the only seer of the PTB, to the best of my knowledge and as such, Jarod will be anxious to get her back."

Angel moved toward the sink and turning the taps, he watched the water gush, cleansing his soiled hand. The blood dripped, diluted, away, the metal sink briefly reddened. 

"He's human right? I didn't sense any demon parts."

"He's human" Wesley established with certainty. "But that doesn't mean he's not dangerous. After all it's not as though you can simply kill him."

"If he tries to hurt Cordelia." Angel said evenly, his fingers cold under the flowing water. "I'll drain him dry."

*************************

Elusive and fleeting, lucidity taunted her. She was sweat drenched, the damp cloth on her forehead only serving to relocate the heat into her burning cheeks. 

Somewhere, in the darkness, he moved. 

It wasn't supposed to be this hot. It was supposed to be cool or at least bearably warm. Cordelia could remember days when it had been bitterly cold. Her cheeks icy and numb. Switzerland. It had been cold in Switzerland. Her ski had broken. Mom had laughed.

'It's all right sweetie. Once you're all right. Have them bring up another set.' 

Xander had been cold. Afterward. She had burned him with her heat. 

"You're the useless part of the group. You're the Zeppo. 'Cool', Look it up. It's something that a sub literate that's repeated twelfth grade three times has and you don't."

She had burned him deep. But he had done the same, hadn't he? She couldn't quite remember. 

He moved closer, his shadow melting in the darkness. 

The light switched on. 

"Too bright," she protested. "Too bright. My eyes are on fire."

He whispered something, his words a wind in her ears, his gaze digging into her. 

"Stop that" Cordelia ordered crossly, jerking back indignantly. "You mustn't do that."

He paused. 

She shook her head, her sweat lined hair loose. "You couldn't be expected to understand," she told him confidently. "Mom wouldn't allow you to ski." 

Her fingernails tugged the sheet from around her body, freeing her. "You shouldn't anyhow, its dangerous, you know." 

He spoke again and though the wind still howled, this time she understood. "Why's that Cordy?"

She smiled kindly, not wishing to upset him. "Because people die that way. They die. There's only minutes left and one great leap decides everything. He can't come back after the leap you know."

"I know" Angel said softly, lifting a hand to smooth the dampness from her cheeks. "I know sweetheart."

Cordelia nodded sadly. "It's bad luck all right, if you only saw the..." she halted, her eyes widened, a sudden clenching pain driving through her

"Too bright" she gasped as her mind exploded with a hundred different images. 

" Far too bright."

******************************

Cordelia nestled against his chest, her eyes vacant, her mumblings incoherent. The twelve hours of almost constant hallucinations had finally faded, leaving her a rambling stricken mess. Angel held her close, arms wrapped tightly around her.

He wasn't sure it helped her. It helped him. She was safe in his arms. Nothing would hurt her here. He wouldn't ever allow anything to hurt her again. 

She was safe.

Enjoying her warmth, relishing the small hands clutching his arms, her head curved against his chest, Angel allowed himself to relax. Morning had arrived hours earlier, an anxious Englishman having spent it pacing the kitchen and peering into the rumpled bedroom, witnessing Cordelia's agony with a grief private to himself. Wesley had watched her swamped with foreign visions, struggling for freedom, her small body easily held by the vampire. She had called to him, her voice broken.

"Wesley please, stop him. He's hurting me Wes. You have to help me. Please God, just help me."

The Englishman had done his best to soothe her, allowing Angel a few moments respite, whispering comforts he was sure wouldn't help. But she had calmed and smiled longingly, intertwining his fingers through her own.

"We can't keep secrets from each other."

Wesley had returned a warm smile, hoping to somehow comfort that wistful face. "We won't Cordelia, we won't."

She had slept then, intermittedly, occasional bouts of rage, fear and pain rousing her. And all the while, Angel had tended to her gently, caring for her lovingly, while Wesley, for the first time in years prayed for their girl.

************************

It had been one hell of a day. 

Long hours punctured by rare minutes of fitful sleep, the evening passed. Cordelia had descended into an abyss of dark pain, her cries awful howls of agony, disturbing the otherwise deathly quiet of the apartment. Lonely and distant, she keened in the approaching darkness, flinching from touched, locked in a private despair. All the while Angel hovered close by, administering remedies remembered from two centuries of watching the living tend to their ill.

Finally, mercifully, her hazel eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed, regular now, nightmares lost in a peaceful sleep.

_I just hope she hangs on to some of that peace. She damn well needs it. _

"Here."

A warm mug was pushed into his hand, a sudden heat tingling his palm. Thoughts disturbed, Angel glanced sideways.

"Thanks Wesley."

Wesley, pale and gaunt, managed a weary nod. "I was afraid you'd head for the warmest snack if you didn't eat soon."

Angel smiled crookedly as he inspected the contents of the mug. "You're safe Wesley. I'm not all that partial to British blood."

"Glad to hear it," Wesley responded dryly, dropping onto the leather sofa behind, his eyes drifting toward the bedroom. He propped his legs upon the small coffee table. "You should relax Angel, she'll be out for a few hours."

"I hope so," Angel swallowed, the blood sneaking warmth all the way to his stomach. "She needs some rest."

"She'll get it," Wesley said confidently as he placed his hands behind his head. "The human body may be resilient but it needs sleep. Cordelia can't fight that natural urge."

"I don't see why not." Angel drained the last of the blood and sat back with a groan. "She's fighting just about everything else." He shifted uncomfortably, wincing as weary muscles ached in protest. "I'm just glad I haven't had the chance to teach her those self defense moves she used to harp on about. I'm so damn tired, I think she might just about floor me."

Wesley quietly smiled at the idea. "Slightly melodramatic, don't you think?"

Angel shot the Englishman a pointed look. "You try wrestling with her for two days." 

Wesley shook his head. "I don't think I could Angel. I don't think anyone could do the job you've done these past few days. You truly have been a good friend to Cordelia, more than a friend."

"Family" Angel murmured absentmindedly. "I'm family. At least the only family she has aroundhere."

"I suppose so," Wesley answered thoughtfully. "She hardly ever mentions her…" The Englishman jumped, startled by the vampire's sudden lurch forward. Angel was on his feet, standing perfectly still, attentive and alert.

"Angel," Wesley stood cautiously, casting a slow gaze around the apartment. "What is it?"

Angel turned quietly, his eyes raised upward. "I hear something."

Wesley frowned. "Something?"

Angel stepped past him, tension tightening his expression. "Someone," he amended, sparing a glance backward. He turned back to Wesley, full brief attention on the Englishman. "Stay with her. Don't leave her."

"But Angel," Wesley hissed at his employer's back, "Why don't you wait, at least grab a…"

The vampire was gone, having disappeared up the spiral staircase with characteristic stealth.

"Damn bloody fool," Wesley muttered darkly. Hurrying toward the weapon chest, the ex Watcher unlocked it and rummaged around for his favorite crossbow. Gripping it tightly, he moved toward the bedroom doorway and dropping down, the Englishman sat and waited.

**************************

Slipping the padlock from the door bolt, Angel gently nudged the door ajar, half expecting a creaky protest to break the silence. Relaxing in the quietness, Angel eased his way through the half opened door, pausing to close it with ginger care. He moved forward, his eyes searching the night. The main door to Angel Investigations swung open with a light touch and stepping inside the main office, the vampire easily identified his visitor.

"Hello Jarod."

Angel watched with quiet satisfaction as the intruder jumped and whirled in the darkness, his eyes fruitlessly hunting him. The vampire inched forward, relishing his intimidating entrance. He cut a formidable figure he knew as he stepped from the blackness enveloping him, his eyes as dark as the night. 

"Angel." Jarod's voice was steady, no hint of fear there.

That would change. 

Angel drew to a halt, fixing an appallingly direct gaze on the other man. "You want something Jarod?"

Jarod glanced slowly around the office, his eyes finally falling on Cordelia's muddled desk. "I came to see a friend."

Angel shrugged slightly, flippantly. "No friend of yours here. There never was."

Jarod inclined his head politely. "I beg to differ. Cordelia is a dear friend to me."

"Cordelia." Angel's tone grew dangerously quiet, "will never see you again. You won't attempt to see or speak with her or contact her in any way. Ever again. You dispose of every ounce of powder you've got, you keep your nose clean and you'll keep breathing. Are you understanding what I'm saying here Jarod? Because I'd hate for there to be any confusion on this."

Jarod smiled thinly, resting a hand on the edge of the desk. "Still making decisions for her, Angel? Don't you think she's entitled to think for herself?"

"I think you don't know anything about Cordelia. Or me. I think you should be grateful I'm not dissecting you limb by limb right now."

"But you don't have time right?" Jarod's lips twisted into a sneer. "Too busy playing white knight to…"

A hard-hitting punch silenced him, knocking him into a backward stumble. Jarod grunted, pulled himself up and promptly slipped back, his head slapping against the wooden floor. His eyes groggily focused on a pair of black shoes planted in front of him.

"Maybe you're right." Angel said from above, cold control gripping his voice. "Maybe I should take the time now."

The vampire reached down and hauled the other man to unsteady feet. "See Jarod, I was going to wait. Make sure that Cordelia was okay before I went looking for you." Angel peered at the shorter man. "You hearing me okay, Jarod? You're looking a little groggy there."

Heaving short shallow breaths, Jarod lifted a vehement gaze to the vampire. 

Angel shook his head sorrowfully. "You know it's rude not to answer a question. I hate bad manners." He hit Jarod again, his savage punch sending the man reeling. Angel watched him fall back, blood and saliva spluttering onto the floor. A cold calm settled in the vampire as he matched Jarod's retreat, his eyes never leaving the shaking body. 

"You want to answer me now Jarod? Hmm?" His shoe swung through the air colliding with the other man's underbelly. 

Jarod groaned horribly, his hands flying to his stomach. "Please."

"Please what Jarod? Please will I let you live long enough to destroy someone else? Please leave your tongue in your mouth so you can lead someone to the hell Cordelia's in? See, those options just don't appeal to me Jarod." Angel hunkered down, his hands on his knees. "Killing you or at least maiming you badly, those are the choices that appeal to me."

"The PTB have a…" Jarod dragged a painful breath, "real gem in you."

He was rewarded with another punch, this time sending him hurtling into the base of the filing cabinet. 

"Yeah, you were checking out job opportunities with the PTB weren't you Jarod?" Angel lifted the man and began to dust down his shirt with deliberate care. "Some aspirations there, haven't you? Becoming one of them. Your high school counselor ever tell you, that you were over ambitious?"

Contempt sparked in the human's gaze. "Why not? You disgust me, so passively acceptant of their existence. Never questioning, never wondering what their purpose is, what it could be."

"So you decided to use Cordelia to find that out for yourself huh?" Angel leaned closer. "You knew what it would do to her."

Jarod sank back almost imperceptibly. "It had to be done," he said finally, flatly. "I didn't want to hurt her but every cause has its sacrifice. She was, still is, mine." Somewhere between the bleeding and aching, Jarod mustered up some courage. "You can't change anything, you know. She will come back to me."

The vampire drew back, considering this. He surveyed the other man, his expression darkly thoughtful. 

"I'm guessing," Angel said as he shoved the other man across the office, "She won't find you if you're dead."

***********************

He pounded with expert skill, each blow delivering deadly pain. The human skull was so damn fragile. Back in the days of Angelus, he had known a hundred ways of keeping someone conscious in torture. 

Nothing worse than a victim who can't appreciate your talent.

He could smell the blood on his knuckles, feel the bruising beneath each blow.

And still the hatred consumed him. 

"Angel."

The voice, calm, cool and familiar tugged him back. Reining the demon in, Angel turned slowly to see Wesley standing in the unlit doorway.

"I told you to stay with her," he rasped.

Wesley ignored him and instead stepped inside. "You've done enough here Angel."

Angel managed a tired laugh. "I couldn't if I tried, Wesley."

Wesley nodded in understanding. "You can't make her feel better up here. Just yourself."

Angel shifted back, turning to gaze down at the huddled form at his feet. Broken and battered, Jarod was easing his way to his knees. Glancing back at Wesley, the vampire nodded shortly.

"I know."

He crouched down, gently tilting Jarod's head up to face him. He waited as the other man focused bleary eyes upon him before speaking. 

"Don't ever come back here. She belongs with me, you understand me? Don't ever come near her again. You do and I'll feed your liver to my neighbors dog, you got that?"

"You… can't … stop… the… inevitable." The words slurred through broken teeth, were defiant.

Angel rose to his feet. "You've been warned," he said quietly. "Don't be here when I come back."

Moving silently away, Angel passed Wesley without a backward glance. The Englishman stared, transfixed by the human misery struggling on the floor.

Jarod twisted his neck, his smile manic through pain. "You going to… watch or… you… going to help..."

Wesley swallowed a sudden rush of bile. "I'd rather leave but first a word of advice? Listen to what he said. Next time, I won't be here and he won't be as merciful."

"You're… a … fool…"

"Actually," Wesley tore his eyes away and he turned to follow Angel downstairs. "I suspect history will judge the man who tried to steal the seer from the souled vampire as the blithering idiot."


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: Joss and co own all

Disclaimer: Joss and co own all. Even me.

Okay, here's the next one J. Thanks for all the lovely reviews guys. I am already writing the next and final chapter so this should be wrapped up fairly soon. Please continue with the feedback and let me know if I am doing the characters and subject matter justice. 

Body Armour. 

He slurped greedily, the chilled blood trickling down his throat, each gulp cold and clotted. Angel dropped the crumpled bag into the blood-splattered sink and heaved a long breath, his head bowed. 

"He'll get over it." Wesley remarked quietly from the kitchen entrance.

Angel stiffened before straightening slowly. "I don't want him to," he answered in a low voice. The vampire turned, his face dark and haunted. His penetrating eyes drifted over the other man's face and he sought some silent permission to continue, to confess the darkness within. "I don't want him to get over it Wesley. I want to find him crippled, with maybe a few bones left for me to break. I want to kill him." He paused, his voice strangled in a guilty pitch. "I wanted to kill him."

Angel willed a reaction of contempt, of complete and utter revulsion.

Willed a reaction to the beast.

To himself. 

Instead, his admission was rewarded with a shake of a very British head. "You didn't kill him Angel." Wesley reminded his friend gently. "He's still very much alive."

The vampire shrugged helplessly, his expression tight and pained. "You don't get it Wes," he explained finally, brown eyes burdened with self-disgust, "I still want him dead. If you hadn't have come along when you did, I might have…"

"You might have killed him," Wesley agreed as he leaned back against the wall. "That doesn't make you Angelus."

The vampire's stomach twisted, a knot tightening as a horrible knowledge possessed him. "I know," Angel almost whispered under the weight of this terrible wisdom. "It makes me worse."

"Nonsense," Wesley replied firmly. "Angel if you plan on torturing yourself for the next week, let me know and I will go now. I don't intended staying around to watch you play the martyr act."

Angel's head whipped up."I'm not…"

"Yes you bloody are," Wesley continued sharply. He shifted his weight from the wall, propelling himself to steady feet. "It wasn't a demon who beat Jarod up there, Angel. It was a man. A man defending his best friend, protecting someone else from the hell she's been put through." Wesley regarded Angel, a weary smile on his lips. "Don't you see Angel? What you did up there was a very human thing to do. It's the price of family you see, that burning urge to guard them, fight for them. Those emotions, those feelings aren't demonic."

"Wesley," Angel said softly, "I might have killed him."

"Any man might have." Wesley returned. "Any demon would have, without question, without conscience, without reason and without remorse. Don't feel guilty over this one, Angel. There are many that couldn't have walked away the way you did."

The vampire relaxed, minutely, just enough to allow his muscles uncurl from their wrenching tightness. There would be time for self-recriminations later and possibly, Angel considered with grim humor, the occasional fit of martyrdom. For now though, he was needed elsewhere. Nodding slowly, the vampire cleared his mind, forcing focus as he asked, "How is she?" 

************************

She was asleep, sound in slumber. Damp curls fell around her face, tousled hair sticking to her clammy cheeks. Angel bent down beside her and smoothed them away, untangling soft knots with his fingers. 

"She looks better." 

"She's over the worst." Wesley confirmed from the doorway. "The cravings will subside completely over the next day or two and toward the end of the week, she'll feel a little more like herself again."

Angel rested his hand on the back of her head. "Who's that then?"

Wesley furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"

"Cordelia told me there was no going back. Things wouldn't be the same again. That they couldn't ever be."

Reluctant acceptance in his voice, Wesley offered slow consolation. "She may be right, but then again, perhaps she won't remember much and you know…"

His voice drifted away, lost in the sudden palpable silence. 

"Wesley," Angel finally spoke, his voice calm and even. "You should head home. Get some rest."

Wesley thought to argue, to offer some other assistance, however meaningless. Instead he nodded pointlessly at his employer's back. "All right then. I'll see you in the morning."

The vampire didn't answer but instead seemed to melt further into the surrounding darkness. The Englishman stepped back and moved away quietly, leaving Angel to watch over Cordelia. 

**********************

He wrapped an arm around her waist, carefully pulling her toward him. Her head dropped forward, resting against his chest and her small hand brushed against his leg, her breathing steady all the while. Content sleep would keep her safe, Angel closed his own eyes, just for a moment. For a bare minute. 

When he woke fifteen hours later Cordelia was gone.

The bed howled under the vampire's hurtling weight as Angel scrambled to his feet, unraveling the cumbersome duvet from around his body while he moved, swift paces carrying him into the living room.

"Cordelia?" His eyes feverishly darted around the room, finding nothing there to pacify the gnawing fear digging into every bone. "Goddamnit, goddamnit. Godamnit." Clenching his quivering jaw, Angel forced himself to calm and consider the possibilities. 

_The padlock on the upper door. Damn thing had been rusty when he put it on._

Whirling around, Angel pounded up the staircase, his hand grabbing the wooden banister, feet leaping three steps at a time. Dulled with orange rust, the padlock was sturdily intact, the door secured steadfastly.

_Spiral staircase._

He turned with an impatient growl, his jumbled thoughts already racing ahead. 

_Where would she go? How long was she gone? What the hell would she do to herself this time?_

The vampire paused, his hand clutching the dark banister as he drew to a sudden halt, hurry forgotten. He stiffened, every sense alert and aware as he lifted his head toward the bathroom opposite. The door was slightly ajar, a thin slice of light glimmering beneath the doorframe. His body slowed, Angel descended the final few steps, his gaze locked on the door ahead. Easy stealth in every footfall, the door creaked beneath his touch, moaning a soft whine as it pushed inward.

She stood staring ahead, her pale reflection gleaming in the solitary mirror. Her hands dangled by her side, hazel eyes unblinking. 

"Cordelia," Angel edged inside, caution in his step. "You had me worried."

She didn't move. "I didn't always look this way. I remember not looking this way." Cordelia spoke in a monotone, her face expressionless, those haunted eyes gliding over her pale image seeking some solace there. 

Finding none. 

Finding nothing. A gap, a void, vacancy. She was empty, bled dry of anything resembling life. She could remember more than this. Somewhere in the cold recesses of her mind, tiny sparks of warmth reminded her. 

"Cordelia," His soft voice hummed in her ear. "Lets go and sit down all right?"

"I used to be more than this, didn't I?" She turned limply, her exhausted eyes settling on the man opposite. "You remember, don't you?"

Angel surveyed her quietly, guilt, grief and a thousand regrets carved onto his somber face. 

_Before L.A. Before Doyle. Before the damn visions._

"I remember."

She drank in his sorrow, those features marred by a dark weight, his face stricken, broken. A new agony in his eyes. 

Had she done this? Had she cluttered him with sadness? She moved closer wonderingly, her small hand fluttering to his cheek. "Did I do this?" she murmured, her eyebrows dipping in mild bewilderment. 

Angel stayed still, subduing the hope building inside. This might be nothing more than a dream to her. She may not be home yet. "Do what Cordelia?"

"Burden you. Make your eyes so heavy." Cordelia said softly, smoothing his skin with her outturned hand. 

Angel swallowed, a harsh ache burrowing into his throat. "Not you," he managed, his voice breaking, "Not ever you Cordelia." 

Cordelia raised her eyes, scanning his face for the truth of his words. His face, so familiar now, every feature stamped on her heart. 

_How had she forgotten? How had she forgotten him?_

Her face crumpled in sudden grief, her back shaking with a half breath. "Angel. Angel, what have I… " She faltered, voice failing her. "What have I done? What have…"

Angel caught her and held her to him, strong arms wrapped around her shuddering body. "It's fixed," he promised her fiercely, "Its fixed now." 

*****************************

Hearing the bathroom door click open, Angel paused mid-pace and busied himself with the bookshelf, turning calmly as her footsteps padded closer. His young seer stood in front of him, looking a little lost in a pair of oversized tracksuit bottoms and a long shirt, her long hair damp and unruly.

Angel clapped his hands together briskly. "Feeling fresher?"

Cordelia smiled tightly. "Yeah. I do." She eyed the coffee table wryly. "Expecting an army?"

The vampire tilted his head self-consciously. "Well, you know, you haven't eaten in a while and I wasn't sure what you'd like so…"

"You made a lot of everything." Cordelia finished as she squeezed past the laden table, dropping onto the sofa behind. She sat back and tucked her feet beneath her. 

"Something like that." Angel replied sheepishly. He followed her path, taking a seat beside her, his larger frame crouching forward, one hand linked through the other. His voice dropped to a soft low. "So, how are you doing?"

Cordelia sighed grimly. "Oh boy." Distress bit into her tone. "I really must be in trouble, you're using your 'speak nice to the helpless person' voice.

Angel shook his head, staring ahead, the silver lining of the leather bound books catching his eye. "You're not helpless Cordelia," he told her evenly. "You've never been helpless."

A distant thought curled in her mind as she remembered the faces of those who had sought Angel's help in the past. The desperation, the panic, the cold curdling fear in their eyes.

"Yes I am," she admitted in a whisper. Cordelia waited as he leaned back and shifted his head sideways. His brown eyes wandered across her face, filling with understanding as they recognized her intent.

"I wanted out of here so badly." Cordelia began haltingly. She pulled her drifting thoughts together, fingernails digging into the back of her hands, that small pain blessing her with focus. "I still want out. When I was in the shower, I thought of a million ways to escape. Not one brilliant Shawshank redemption escape among them." She stared at him meaningfully. "But if there was one, I'd be gone."

Angel nodded in thoughtful agreement. "I know."

Cordelia looked away, tears pricking her eyes. "So what does that make me then? I'd go back to him, even though I know." She thoughts of the visions, the powder and felt the burning ache inside, that blinding pain. "God, how I know."

"What do you know?" Angel asked softly. 

She flung an angry sideways glance at the vampire. "You don't have to psyche me Angel. I know what Jarod is, I know what he's done to me. I know all that all right? I just don't know how to stop wanting it. Wanting what only he can give me." She shook her head furiously. "I don't know if I can ever stop this."

"You've already begun," Angel informed her calmly. "It may not feel that way but it's already begun. Two days ago, you wouldn't speak to me. You wouldn't look at me. You've come a long way since then."

Seeing a silent air of despondence droop around her slumped shoulders, Angel pressed a little. 

"Cordelia, you're ill. You couldn't see that and you needed Wes and I to help you out. You still need us but every hour, less and less. You're getting better. I know you still feel far away from us, I know you want nothing more than some of that powder but I promise, I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you with us till you're ready to come back to us."

Tears dropped, smudging her shirt. "What if I can't?" Cordelia asked lowly. "What if I can't?"

"That's not an option." Angel said calmly, a slight headshake of disquiet at the thought. "You're half way back."

"Back to what?" Cordelia wiped her damp cheeks and glanced at him through long damp locks of dark hair. "Angel, what have I to get back to? I wasn't lying when I said things can't go back. I've lost my family. I've lost Doyle, I can't stand these visions, I don't want them and I hate myself for it. I've lied to you, I've lied to Wes." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm better off forgetting that. The powder lets me forget."

"That's crap." Angel interjected more brutally than he had intended. "Cordelia, how long will it let you forget? Until your brain fries and you can't form a logical thought? Until Jarod owns every part and discards you piece by piece? Until it works and you can't remember what the hell you were trying to forget in the first place?"

Realizing his voice had jumped to a yell, Angel paused and managed a slight shrug for his surprised seer."Hey, at least I've lost the helpless person voice, right?" Congratulating himself on eliciting the first natural smile he had seen in weeks, the vampire soldiered on. "We haven't had it easy these past few months Cordelia. I know that and I know maybe I haven't watched out for you the way I should. It's just that I couldn't seem to reach you. You were so far away."

Sadness lingered around her. "I know."

"I couldn't reach you." Angel repeated, his hand drifting outward to clutch her own. "I tried but I just couldn't reach you."

"So you kidnapped me instead." Cordelia smoothed her palm against his own, her voice small, unheated. 

Angel cocked his head. "I didn't have a choice Cordelia. I needed you safe."

She nodded knowingly. "That may be but Angel when I told you the cost of this may be our friendship, I wasn't lying. So much has happ…" she shifted her eyes to her knees. "It's a lot to get over. I don't know that I can."

Heart daggered, breaking, Angel somehow found his voice. "Let's just get you healthy first, all right? Then we can look at how we go on."

Cordelia uncurled her feet, rising to her feet with careful movement. "I'm going to go dry off my hair." She eased past him, disentangling her hand from his own. He caught it, holding her back. 

"I don't want to lose you," he said quietly, almost a whisper. 

She pulled her hand away, the movement slow, almost tender. "I know."

**************************

The days passed uneventfully, Cordelia spending her time watching television or perusing through the library collection. Angel occupied himself with watching over her discreetly, over the top of a book or through a hooded sideways glance. The cravings eased. Slowly but surely, the ferocity of their urge diminished and Cordelia found herself increasingly confident under their attack.

"It's like I've found my stake," she explained from the kitchen table where she sat cross-legged, watching him cook. "I can feel it coming and I can close it off, hold the urge in until it goes. Does that make any sense?"

"Plenty." Angel answered from the oven. "It's almost done. At least I think it is. Anyway, that makes perfect sense. You are taking control. It means you're winning."

They shared a mutual grin before remembering to fall back into that terse silence. Immersing himself in the lasagna preparations, Angel waited for her feet to pad away to isolation before allowing his shoulders to slump in defeat. For the most part, he managed to stay cheerful and ignore the tension stretching between them.

For the most part.

Wesley helped. With his characteristic kindly ease, he smoothed over the rough patches, enquiring after Cordelia as though she were recovering from a cold. He asked how her day went as though she were a guest rather than a prisoner. Cordelia responded, small smiles rewarding the Englishman's efforts. Wesley, Angel decided ruefully, had the better part of the deal. Not for him, caustic glances or sharp remarks. No, he got the thanks you's and ample conversation about reruns of The Love Boat. 

"She apologized." 

Angel jumped at the unexpected voice and turned around with a low growl."Wesley, hi."

The Englishman beamed at him, apparently delighted with his stealthy entrance. "Sorry about creeping up on you there but I wanted to fill you in. Cordelia apologized."

"Apologized?" Angel straightened, dropping the oven gloves on the adjacent counter.

Wesley rocked back on his heels. "Yes, remember how she called me a useless, nerdy jumper wearing immigrant?"

The vampire blinked. "You know Wesley, she said a lot, I don't remember everyth…"

"Neither did I," Wesley continued brightly. "I mean she did refer to me in less than complimentary terms on several occasions so that particular incident doesn't stick out and Cordelia said herself she may only have thought it but the apology was nice all the same. Progress wouldn't you say?"

Resisting the urge to remind Cordelia that Wesley was an accomplice in the week's events, Angel satisfied himself with a tight grin. "Oh I'd say."

Wesley nodded enthusiastically. "I thought you would. I don't suppose she has apologized for the no life-shrink wannabe-probably has a damn leather thong- creature of the night comment has she?"

"No Wesley, she hasn't but thanks for bringing that one up again." Angel said darkly. He took three plates from the cupboard. "She hasn't said much of anything. And when she does, its like she fades away more than ever afterwards. Farther away from me."

"But she's getting better."Wesley offered, solemn now. 

"Yeah" Angel agreed with forced heartiness. "She's getting better."

*****************

"You want anything to eat?"

Cordelia looked up from her book. "No thanks and you know you don't have to keep asking that every ten minutes. I'm pretty much at the whole 'I can fix myself something to eat without falling over' stage.

Something resembling hurt crossed Angel's face, almost too swift to notice. Almost. 

"Angel," Cordelia said gently. "I didn't that to sound all snappy. I just, you knowing I'm feeling okay now."

Angel half shrugged. "I know that. I'll stop the mother hen routine. I know you're better."

Cordelia lowered the book to her lap, her hands crossed over its leather cover. "I am. So much so that I think maybe in the morning, I should go."

He tensed, her suggestion unexpected. "Go. Go where? Cordelia?"

"Go home," she told him calmly, her eyes intent upon him "Back to my life, whatever that is now."

"Cordelia," Angel murmured the beginnings of a protest.

"Angel" she cut in brusquely, "You've done it. You've taken me out of there and you've helped make me, me again. There's nothing more for you to do. You can't live my life Angel. You've given me back my choices Angel. It's time for me to make them."

"I won't allow him near you." Angel said evenly, his voice as calm and sure as her own.

She nodded. "I know that, just as we both now you couldn't really stop me from living that life if that's what I truly wanted." Her nails scratched the smooth book surface. "But I don't. Not anymore. I know I can't go back there again." Her smile dimmed, just a little. "Whatever life this is, whatever shell I am, this is my life now. Not Jarod's and not yours. It's time for me to get on with the living thing."

Angel stared at her speechlessly, struck both by her eloquent confidence and understated determination. 

Cordelia Chase was very much back. 

"You're right," he finally rasped, the words reluctantly ripping from his throat. "I know you're right."

Cordelia rose, the book falling onto the seat edge. "Thank you."

There was a goodbye in her small expression of gratitude, one recognized by both of them. Holding his gaze for a bare moment, Cordelia mumbled a goodnight before turning for the door.

"Is that it then?"

His words pulled her back, locking her feet to the floor. She swallowed and turned, cheeks flushed. Angel was as she had left him, sitting back-legged on a small wooden chair, his eyes having drifted to the far wall. 

"Is that it?" he repeated, dragging his gaze back to her. "You thank me and walk away? You leave me in the morning and that's it?"

"We'll always be linked Angel." Cordelia returned softly. "The visions…"

"The visions?" Angel snarled a laugh. "You can leave them with Wesley or the answering machine Cordelia. I am talking about us. About you and I."

Cordelia took a breath. "I don't know Angel. I don't know how that's going to play out."

"That's not an answer I'm prepared to accept" Angel replied easily. "That's not enough."

Cordelia's eyes gleamed. "Things have changed. You made choices that affected what you and I are to each other. The things you did…"

"To save you. For Christ's sake Cordelia, to save you." Angel roared as he rose, flinging the chair across the room, shards of wood splintering over the floorboards. 

They paused, eyes caught by the other. He could hear her heart pounding almost fearfully. "Cordelia."

"The things you did." Her voice cracked as she continued, ignoring his interruption, "changed what we are. I don't know if we can go back. I wish I could say it could but I can't. So much has changed Angel."

Angel gestured outward, one desperate hand flung toward her. "I know that. You think I don't know that? I wish I hadn't had to do what I did Cordelia. I wish you felt what I'd hoped you feel which was all delighted and grateful."

"It's not that I'm not," Cordelia said slowly, tears glistening. "But all that hurt, the pain of this week

when I think of it, I think of you. I know you did it to save me but now I'm restored to this shell, to this life and I know I should be grateful and I am and yet I'm not." Her head dipped, chest heaving short breaths and when she raised her eyes again, they were filled with distress. "I have to go on now. You've allowed me that but it's all still there. I was lost long before Jarod found me. I was nothing. I felt nothing. And now I'm back to that. Your salvation gave me that."

"So what?" Angel's eyes found the ceiling. "Now you give it to me?" He lowered his head in the silence to look upon his seer. "Because if you leave me Cordelia, if you walk away from me, that's what I get. I get nothing. I've been there these past few weeks, watching you fall so damn far away from me." Using her muteness, grabbing a lifeline, the vampire stepped closer. "All I have here is you Cordelia. I know you miss Doyle, I know the visions are hard. I know the powder's power but I also know that you and I can rebuild, we can mend."

He gritted his teeth. "I know you hated me having to save you. But please save me now. Don't leave me."

A rogue tear escaped, trickling a damp path down her cheek. "Angel."

"Cordelia. Please, let me finish. I care about you so much it scares me. This fear that you'll leave me eats me up from the inside out, consumes me. I can't lose you. You understand me? I can't do it. So it's your turn to save me. You save me Cordelia," He finished, each word punched with slow feeling and clarity of meaning.

His shoulders shrugged almost imperceptibly, helplessly. "You save me."

Cordelia stared at him for a half breath, her breathes hitching into a sob. "Angel." She said his name longingly, her feet carrying her to him. Flinging trembling arms around him, she buried her head in his chest. 

He clutched her just as tightly, unwilling to ever let her go. Her tiny sobs and shaking body enough to hold him there forever. And somewhere from his dampening shirt and full arms, the words drifted, warm and loving.

"I'll save you."

********************************


	9. Epilogue

They talked for hours, the night slipping into day as a friendship was rediscovered, warm and strong as it had ever been

Disclaimers: Joss and David own all. 

Okay so this is finally it!! I cannot believe I am finally finished this. A really big thank you to everyone who took the time to let me know what they thought of this along the way, some of the comments were really insightful and helpful and all were appreciated J

This was supposed to be a three chapter fic, now nine chapters later, I'm posting the epilogue. I hope it rounds the fic off nicely, sorry if it is anyway repetitive but Cordy insisted on talking. So here goes the epilogue of 

Body Armour.

They talked for hours, the night slipping into dawn as a friendship was slowly reclaimed, warm and close as ever. Her head rested against his broad shoulder and curling comfortably against him, the seer quietly confided a thousand woes to her warrior. The warrior listened intently, his head dipped to catch her faltering whispers. Interjecting with an occasional comfort, Angel filed every pained confidence away to the safety of memory, to be visited again. This was the first of many such conversations he silently vowed, clasping her small hand all the tighter as beside him, Cordelia shifted, her eyes drifting upward to meet his own.

"I am so sorry." Her lips trembled, her eyes gleaming with sad wisdom, "All that I have done, all that I …"

Angel shook his head, dark determination buried in his features. "Don't. Don't apologize Cordelia, this wasn't your fault. Not any of it."

Cordelia smiled briefly, sorrowfully. "I wish that were true, Angel." The girl hesitated, words momentarily failing her. "I knew though. What Jarod was, I knew. I just didn't care." Her voice filled with longing. "Angel, everything was so simple. He offered me an escape and I took it. I knew the price I would have to pay. What I would put you through and I took anyway."

"He took advantage," Angel began.

"No," Cordelia fought the suggestion with a vehement shake of her dark head. "No, he didn't. I mean, yes he did but I let him Angel. Don't you see?" Cordelia paused, a breath hitching, guilt inscribing itself on her face. "Even if I had known, I would have gone with him. I would have done it all anyway. So you see, he didn't really take advantage. I allowed him to take me, as I was." Honesty mingled with shame in her hazel eyes as she slowly finished. "I couldn't let him leave me. I couldn't let him go."

"I should have been there," Angel said hoarsely. "I should have stopped it when it began."

"You couldn't have known…"

"I should have known." Angel interrupted harshly, his fingers curling into the palm of his cold hand, his fist clenching tensely. "It's my job to know, Cordelia. That's what I'm supposed to be good at. The damn visions, Doyle, how could I not have known?"

"Stop" Cordelia commanded, her hand sneaking across to pull his fist apart, her palm smoothing lovingly against his own. "Stop it. This wasn't you. You couldn't have done anything, Angel. Losing Doyle…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Losing him was the hardest thing." Cordelia's eyes shone as she looked up at him, her face softening with memory. "He had come to mean so much to us, you know?"

Angel nodded, unable to speak.

"I miss him. I miss him still." Cordelia swallowed, a tiny headshake restoring control. "Losing him, gaining the visions, I lived from minute to minute, hating this. Hating what my life had become. This isn't what I wanted. When I left Sunnydale…" Cordelia sighed, the breath filled with misery. "This wasn't what I wanted."

Angel flinched, her words ripping away the security he had come to know over the past few months.

She didn't want this. She didn't want him.

"I know," he said quietly.

Cordelia glanced at him sharply, following his thoughts. "No Angel," she protested immediately, quashing his gnawing doubt. "My life with you here has been exactly what I wanted. What I want. I thought I could leave the demons behind in Sunnydale. I couldn't. None of us ever could. Not Willow or Xander or Oz. Or me."

Cordelia smiled softly at that truth, straightening as she moved to face him. Her gaze settled upon him, a slow warmth rising in her eyes. "I don't want to leave them behind. I got scared Angel. I got scared and I thought there was no escape. I thought that these visions would lead me to death just like Doyle. I wanted out and there is no out. Not from our work."

"I'm sorry" Angel said fervently, "Cordelia, I am so…"

"Don't apologize." Cordelia rejoined. "Visions or not, there is no out for me. No 'get out of demon hunting' card. This has been my life for the past three years and it's around time I faced up to that. The visions aren't a curse." Clarity bit into every bone, a sudden truth unfolding in her mind. "They're a gift, Angel. A blessing."

His eyes scanned her face searchingly. "You're sure," he said finally. "You're sure this is what you want?"

She nodded, a calm belief flooding her. "I'm sure. It's not going to be easy. I'm not saying I'm going to be all joyful every time I get one of those mind-crunching visions but I'm in. We're in this together Angel."

The vampire grinned unexpectedly, finding delight in the promise of her words. The promise of times ahead. "Sounds good to me."

Cordelia returned his grin. "Yeah but don't think this whole bonding thing means I can't ask for a pay-rise." Her smile dimmed a little and she stretched a hand out to his face. She smoothed his cheek affectionately, her hand dropping self consciously as wonder sparked in his eyes.

"I've never had a friend like you before Angel. When I'm with you, I'm happy. I'm proud of who I am. That make sense to you?"

Drinking in the sight of her, suddenly terribly grateful for her, Angel answered with easy honesty, "Completely."

****************************************

"Donut?" 

Cordelia surveyed the selection of frosted pastries critically. "You didn't get jam."

"One would usually thank a colleague for going out of his way to pick up donuts on the way to work" Wesley informed his younger associate. "Normally, one would be appreciative of the effort before complaining."

"Simple task, whole selection of donuts. Really not that hard to manage, Wes." Cordelia answered unrepentantly as she plucked a strawberry coated donut from the flimsy box. "You know, I'm beginning to think university was a waste of time for you."

"Well, I could say the same of you but let's see, you didn't go to university." Wesley dropped the box on her desk with a pointed smile. 

"I'll have you know." Cordelia flung hotly at the Englishman's retreating back. "I was accepted to a number of prestigious universities where you needed more than a snooty accent to get in. I mean the Watcher's council probably threatened Oxford with a Mayor sized demon to get them to accept you."

Wesley settled himself comfortably on the sofa, lifting some demon illustrations for closer inspection. "Actually, I joined the Council after Oxford." He looked up with deliberate nonchalance, "They sent me back to do a postgraduate course in ancient history." 

Cordelia smirked. "Oh so they made you boring? And all this time I thought you were born that way."

Wesley opened his mouth, an insult on the tip of his tongue. He paused, a smile jumping instead to his lips. "It's nice to have you back, Ms Chase."

Surprise melted in Cordelia's eyes, leaving hazel pools of warmth. She regarded him teasingly. "Oh God Wes, don't start turning into a mushy Brit on me. Angel has been emotional enough for all of us."

"Angel was emotional?" 

Cordelia shrugged as she sank her teeth into the donut. "Well," she said between chews, "He sighed deeply once or twice. That's emotion for him, right?"

"Most certainly." Wesley agreed solemnly. He flicked a gaze to the demon illustrated on the parchment on his lap, remembering the raw anger in Angel. The savage beating he had inflicted upon Jarod. "So, you two sorted everything out?"

Cordelia nodded, reaching for a napkin as she swallowed, "Oh yeah. We talked for ages. I got over the whole kidnapping thing and he got over the being afraid I'd go do something stupid the minute his back was turned thing and well, I realized how damn lucky I am to have you guys and voila. Cordy gets her life back."

"I'm glad." Wesley held her gaze meaningfully. 

Her eyes sparkled, brimming with sudden gratitude. "I know."

"May I come in?"

Cordelia's carefully reconstructed world fell apart in one breath. She turned fearful eyes toward the doorway, the figure there, painfully familiar as she whispered his name. 

"Jarod."

*****************************************

Wesley was on his feet, moving past her in a blur. "Out. Now."

There was a muttered conversation, unguarded British threats and calm, belligerent assurances in response. Finally, fighting through the cloud that had somehow swamped her, Cordelia found her voice. 

"I'll talk with you."

Wesley spun around, his expression stony. "Cordelia, go downstairs. Now please."

Cordelia smiled at the Englishman. "Wesley it's all right. I'll speak with him. I have to speak with him." She turned to Jarod, her eyes flickering over his bruised face. "Come downstairs. We can talk there."

*****************************************

"You get five minutes."

Jarod blinked, a slow nod of agreement. "That's not a lot of time."

"It's all you get." Cordelia answered evenly. "Less if Angel gets back. I've a feeling he might add to those bruises."

Amusement settled on Jarod's face. "So everything's back to normal then Cordelia? Angel still living your life for you?"

Inside, she trembled, quivered with a fear of falling, sliding back, to him. "What is it you wanted, Jarod?"

He shrugged, his dark eyes fixed upon her. "You," he said, what she had known he would say. "It's always been you Cordelia."

She moistened her lips, remembering she was alive now. "I can't do it Jarod. I can't make the sacrifices you ask of me. And you don't want me without them. It's the visions you want."

"Not just the visions. You too. You know that."

Cordelia smiled wistfully, knowing in her heart that there was some truth in his words. "It could have been different Jarod if you had taken just a little. But you didn't, you took it all. You took all of me."

"I won't," he edged closer, gazing upon her. "I won't this time. Please Cordelia."

She raised a finger, slowly tracing the outline of his face. "You broke me Jarod. You watched me fall apart."

"Angel…" he began harshly.

"Don't" Cordelia shook her head in mild exasperation. "There's no point. You don't know what he did or didn't do. You don't know Angel and you don't know me. But I know you, Jarod. Every single part of you." She regarded him calmly, all anger and fear fading, sudden self-assurance in her voice. "And I don't like one bit of you. It ends here Jarod. This is goodbye."

*************************************

"She's what?" Angel exploded as he loomed over the Englishman, his face darkened with fury. 

"Angel, just listen…" Wesley edged around the vampire, placing cautious hands on Angel's chest. 

His employer glowered threateningly. "Wesley, get out of my way."

"Angel," Wesley sidestepped to match the vampire's movement and throwing caution to the window, shoved him backward. "Would you just listen to me for god's sake?"

"I just listened to you, Wesley." Angel answered through gritted teeth. "I just listened to you tell me that you allowed Cordelia to go downstairs with the man who nearly killed her."

"I checked he had no powder, I equipped Cordelia with a Mantholian sword and I've sat at the top of the steps listening to them until you came in just now."

Angel visibly deflated. "Oh." 

Taking advantage of the other man's momentary lapse into silence, Wesley continued gently, "Angel, you can't tell Cordelia you trust her and then charge in when you disagree with a decision she's made. She deserves better than that."

"I know. God I know." Angel shifted from one foot to the other, his body wracked with unease. "I'm just scared that she'll…"

"So deal with it." Wesley interrupted with uncharacteristic roughness. "Deal with it and get over it and get back to being her friend. That's how you'll serve her best."

Wondering, not for the first time how he had ever pegged Wesley as a blithering idiot, Angel nodded, burying his misgivings and instead, placed his trust in his new friend.

"All right then. Calm it is."

*******************************************

Angel watched Jarod hobble past, one crippling step after another. The vampire's intense glare followed the other man's slow path out the door, out of their lives. 

"You know, he doesn't have eyes in the back of his head so really, that whole dirty look thing is wasted on him."

Angel turned to his seer. She stood with quizzical amusement on her face, her hands tipping lightly against her hips. Relief swamped him, the tension of the past few days fading away, diminishing in the light of her smile.

She was okay. She had seen the bastard and she was okay.

"You're okay?" he asked softly, just to be sure.

She nodded confidently. "I am. It sounds corny but there's closure now. Well done on the not violent approach, by the way. I'm impressed."

Behind them, Wesley coughed discreetly. Angel eyed the Englishman wryly before returning his attention to Cordelia. "And he didn't…"

"He didn't do anything." Cordelia promised. "He just listened and he left. For good this time."

"You're sure?" Angel couldn't help but ask, needing her reassurance. 

A slow smile glided across her face as she recognized his quiet worrying ways. "I'm sure. You see," she continued simply. "It turns out he didn't quite understand. All that time with him, I forgot to make things clear. So, I told him I didn't belong with him. I told him I belonged with my family, that I belong here, with you."

Cordelia waited, allowing her words to sink in. Angel cleared his throat, trying to formulate some kind of answer. He needn't have bothered for she moved past him, her hand lightly squeezing his shoulder, loyalty and love promised in her touch. She was gone, quickly engrossed in the lamentable arrival of bills which apparently couldn't possibly be paid, at least not until they averaged more than one paying client a week.

Listening to her idle chatter, clinging to her voice like a lifeline, the vampire remained perfectly still and reveled in life, content in the knowledge that he too, belonged.


End file.
